In Life and in Death 2003–2004 541
his older brother, wore his tallith. Nobody dared say a prayer, since
Jacques hadn’t wanted one. ‘So,’ confi ded René, ‘I said the kaddish
in my head.’
A heavy silence reigned, but only the people closest to the tomb
could hear Pierre reading the few words prepared by his father.
Derrida, reproducing his own father’s gesture, thirty-four years
earlier, had composed his epitaph himself:
Jacques desired neither ritual nor prayer. He knows by experi-
ence what a trial it is for the friend who performs them. He asks
me to thank you for coming, and to bless you, he begs you not
to be sad, and to think just of the many happy times that you
gave him the chance to share with him.
Smile at me, he says, as I will have smiled at you until the
end.
Always prefer life and never stop affi rming survival.
I love you and I am smiling at you from wherever I am.^55