It’s been a strange week. My mother died on Friday morning. I was by her side at the end—just the two of us. Seeing someone you love die is hard, but it also brings life into some new perspective. Things that occupy us are often quite silly. In the end, when we face the inevitable, it’s what you did with friends and family that matters. Relationships are everything. On one level I’ve always known this, but it’s so easy to be dragged into destructive discussions and quarrels. Not to mention spending time on work you don’t find fulfilling. Thinking about my own life, I realise that I’ve wasted too much time on political antagonists online. Sure, it’s important to stand up to dangerous political and religious ideas, but I must learn to prioritise better. I must be constructive. When I take my last breaths, I don’t want to think about malicious people on Facebook. I most learn to ignore the silliness.

Mother gave me so much love. I feel good about spending the two final nights by her side, holding her fragile hand, and telling her how much I love her. I know she loved me too, even when I made it hard. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

— Dylan Thomas

My mother has now been gone for a week and somehow I’ve managed to work every day, despite the feeling of unreality that hit me throughout. Now it’s Friday, and Shabbat is here. My plan for the weekend is to relax as much as possible. My body and mind need it.

שבת שלום

The council consists of such human-rights champions as Afghanistan, Bahrain, Bangladesh, Eritrea, Libya, and Venezuela. The only thing these despots agree on is being against the only democracy in the Middle East. Hence, the list.

More than one hundred doctors from eighteen countries defend Assange in The Lancet. They say he’s a victim of torture. No one cares about his victims.

שבת שלום

My mother’s funeral was yesterday. After the service, we put the flowers outside. I took this photo before we left. My mother was loved by many and I will miss her greatly.

Love knows no gender.

Cnaan Liphshiz of Forward writes:

This year’s procession included costumes of haredi Jews with ant abdomens and legs. The 12 men wearing those suits set up a display called “complain ant,” a phrase that in Dutch resembles the word for the Western Wall. They wore stickers reading “obey” on their lapels.