Passover Passes Over

Passover has never been a particularly easy holiday for me. This year it has certainly not been easy. I've missed being with my children. As much as their mother always fumed that Judaism in the United States was "phony," until I met her, her family really didn't do much of anything for Passover, and I was the one who kept the traditions for the children. I went to Chabad in Washington so that I would be able to observe the Sedarim on the first two nights, and that turned out not to be so bad; I did spend my time with fairly pleasant people. Still, I was very much aware of the absence of my children, and I could see that the others were wondering how it was that I was there without them.

I keep wondering if it will always be this way. I have not one good reason to be forgiving toward the Jewish community for what was done to me and every reason to bear a grudge. I can already hear the Bible-thumping Christians preaching to me, but they didn't end up in the streets, so they can just shut up; it's not as if I'm in their camp, anyway. I don't need to hear the false Fundies with their line of BS when they have nothing to offer me but hot air. Empty rhetoric does me no good. If it's not concrete, tangible help, I don't want it; it's that simple.