"I had very different relationships with my mother and father, and so mourning for each was different. When my mother died in 1995, I said kaddish for her for the year, but that was just one element of my grieving. I was closer to my mother. She raised me and was always there for me. A good mother is a fact of life, like the sun coming up each morning. When she died, it seemed as though the sun had stopped shining. In accordance with the traditional laws of mourning, I did not go to hear live music for the year after her death. Hearing a live performance — whether in a concert hall or the park or at a wedding or bar mitzvah — is considered a festive occasion, both because of the music and the simple joy of being with others. It is no place for mourners. But in mourning for my mother, I took the music restriction one step further. I did not even listen to music on the radio or on CDs. And I put away the doleful cello music that I loved so well. Music, even sad music, has always lifted my spirits, and I did not want my spirits to be lifted. I needed to feel the loss of my mother. Another restriction is not to buy new clothing for a year. New clothes also bring one joy. And I wanted neither clothes nor joy."