A Eulogy

Dear Ma, 

What can I say to the woman who brought me into this world.  You waited for so many years. So much pain and heartache.  You suffered through so much.  But despite all of the suffering, you were still my mother. Our Ma. You were so proud of us three children.  

The person that people saw in the last few years was not the real you. Although, your personality definitely peeked through. Your stubbornness. Your spunk. Your fight. You were a survivor. You taught me what it means to live. To hold on. 

I want to share some memories of the good times. 

Remember the time that we went horseback riding and you sat on the side reading a book waiting for us as a pig tried to eat your chair. 

Remember when you got your hair cutting license in Israel. You were so proud. Little did I know I would spend my childhood with short hair and short bangs as you would practice on my hair. Everyone in the Dorset area came to you for haircuts.

Remember how you were always bickering with Aunt Naomi on the phone and whenever you got together. You always argued about the time you walked through the glass door, you only got a book about animals, and when Aunt Naomi fell out of the car, she got markers. I can’t even count how many times I had to hear that story. 

Remember how you always had to match everything. Your shoes matched your skirt, which matched you shirt and eyeshadow. Your earrings were probably heavier than you.

Remember how you made coca cola chicken. Apricot meat that would melt in your mouth. And the best Bubby Kugel. 

Remember how you bought every Jewish book that came out. Your love for Rabbi Biographies. And millions of Miriam Adahan books. You went to almost every WIT class possible. Your notes were everywhere around the house. You went to shul every Shabbos. Always sitting up front. 

Remember Tai Chi. Remember how you and Bubby would be sitting by the window in Household two waiting for one of us to come. The minute you would see Abba walking towards you, you would stand up and mimic his motions. Putting your arms up above your head and copying all the arm motions he was doing in the parking lot. 

Your love for Abba was beyond anything. 

Remember how proud you were of Chaim. He is your pride and joy. Your obvious favorite. 

Remember when you found out you were pregnant withDevora. Was probably the happiest day of your life. 

Remember how you would talk to your father every day on the phone. 

Remember how you loved Simcha and Shira. How proud you were of the families they crated. 

Remember how grateful you were to Yechiel for the dedication and care for Aunt Naomi. You finally get to be with your sister. And your mother. And Bubby. You are finally pain free.  

Your hand has always been warm. You always smiled when you saw me. I am your first. My voice is the one you always recognize. I am your original. Been there through thick and thin. Ma. Please. I'm sorry. Sorry for this life you've had. Sorry for all the pain. Sorry I haven't always been there. I'm sorry.

Ma. I love you. Mommy. I’ll miss you. Imma. Forever your daughter.

Ma

Mother. Is an abstract concept. A given. Everyone has one. Or do they. Biological. Part of humanity. Society. Way of life. But is it. Some do not choose it. Others forced. Precious few are deserving.

My mother wanted me. She waited and waited. Let down one too many times. She suffered. Suffered for years. Much heartache. And then I appeared. Tiny but not really. A bundle of joy. Surrounded by difficulty. Constant suffering.

Ma. Mommy. Imma.

Where are you. Why does this keep happening to you. To us. I just don't understand. How are you able to withstand all this pain. All this sorrow. Ma. I wish you knew who I was. I wish you were my real mother. I wish you could make everything ok. Make me ok.

I can't look at you. So pathetic and sad. So small. How did we get here. How did this become our lives. How could I have thought we hit rock bottom so many years ago. And look at us now. Broken. Alone. Ma. Where are you. Open your eyes. Can you hear my voice. Blink.

Where is the justice. On your birthday. Is God mocking. Playing the evil puppeteer. We are helpless marionettes. Ma. Wake up. Breathe. Take those precious breathes. Fight. Don't leave me. I can't live without you. I need you more than I have ever realized. So what if you weren't perfect. You were still there. And maybe I wasn't always there. Still not. But I knew where to find you.

Your hand has always been warm. You always smiled when you saw me. I am your first. My voice is the one you always recognize. I am your original. Been there through thick and thin. Ma. Please. I'm sorry. Sorry for this life you've had. Sorry for all the pain. Sorry I haven't always been there. I'm sorry.

If it's your time. Then let go. It's ok. We will all understand. We just want you to be calm. At peace. Pain free.

Ma. I love you. Mommy. I need you. Imma. Forever your daughter.

My Life

While going through old boxes in the back of my closet, I found a lot of shit. Dishes. Clothes. Scrapbooks. Albums. Pictures. Letters. Memories that had been packed away. Mostly forgotten. Not sure what got into me. Why the nostalgia need. Most definitely was a bad idea.

I can be vague here as is my norm. Or I can just be honest. Tell you that seeing those albums was painful. Although I laughed and fake-gagged at the time. I can say that I am over it. It's all the past and doesn't affect me. But that is not the truth. I did flip through those pictures. Glanced at the scrapbooks containing hundreds of letter. Handwritten love letters. Flashing back to another time. A time that was less complicated.

I saw myself. What outsiders saw. Religious. Observant. Following the rules. Whatever you want to call it. I was playing the part. Living the lifestyle.

I know now that it was all a facade. Waiting to crash at my feet. Living in a fantasy land. Surrounded by infatuation. Desire for a future. No understanding of the present. Of the facts in front me. Avoiding reality. All to live in delusion. A dream of what I wanted and not what was.

I gave up myself. I lost who I was. And I did it willingly. I followed a path that I didn't want. To fit in. To please everyone else. But I was not happy. I was controlled. Miserable. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I wasn't authentic.

And that's not who I am. Who I ever wanted to be. All I ever wanted to be. Unique. To be authentic. What you see is what you get. Not two-faced at all. Honest to a fault.

And now, although a lot has changed. It is not a bad thing. Looking at my face in those pictures, I see a lonely and sad girl. Standing at a distance from those around her.

Lost. Alone. Leading a life that is not her own. Trapped in a life she doesn't desire.

Today I am grateful. I feel lucky that I have myself back. That I am living my life. As I want to live it. And I won't take that freedom for granted. And I won't lie and say that it isn't hard. Doesn't get painful. The loneliness is definitely there under the surface. But I  no longer feel hopeless. Because my happiness and my life do not depend on you or anyone else. It's internal. My choice. My goals. My life.

My life.

Empty Tears

The tears. They are tears that don't come often. They hide inside. Refuse to leave their post.

You were supposed to protect me. Supposed to love me forever. Never supposed to leave my side. You were supposed to be my best friend. To love me. Forever. You were supposed to keep me. To hold me and never let go. You were supposed to please me. You had one job. To love me. To see only me. As your one and only.

But you forgot. You forgot about our love. You forgot about me. You got distracted. You chose your religion. You saw my pain. You saw me cry. You knew how much I hurt. But you chose your religion. Every single time. Your empty religion. Empty words. Swaying back and forth. No meaning. All by rote. Because it's all you knew. You couldn't think for yourself. You couldn't choose me. You chose your shell instead.

I was in the goddamn hospital for ten days. You thought I was going to die. How could you not hold my hand. How could you not comfort me. I was dying. I had no family. You were supposed to be my family. My support. My anchor. So you said tehillim. I needed your hand. I needed your love. Not for you to be the hero. Where were you. I needed you to hold me. So what if I was a fucking niddah. Do you think it was right for me to call the rabbi and beg him. To tell you to hold my hand. Is that how life is supposed to be. Is that what my life should look like. Is that the life I signed up for.

Do you think about me. Do you realize that you have damaged me. As you live your pretty little life. In your pretty little house.

How could let me go through that day. Have a friend scrub me in the shower. To get off all the hospital markings. As I throw up all over myself. Throwing up my pills. And then your goddamn mother comes to pick me up. Do you not feel guilty. Not at all. Or have you conveniently forgotten. And then your mother let me lay on the floor and all those women commented how cute it was that she brought me with her to work. Or how about when she helped me get undressed. Or how about when your mother walked me down the steps and helped me dunk in the goddamn water. Do you know what that does to a person. She let me dunk once. Because I was too sick to dunk more than once. And then she dressed me. There you were. Fucking waiting outside the side door with a wheelchair to wheel me home. As I throw up outside the shul. For all the men to see this pathetic woman in a wheelchair throwing up.

Do you think about that night. How I went to the mikvah sick as a dog just so you would take care of me. Does that sit with you. Did it ruin your life. Or did you forget. Did you move on. And then you threw me away. I let my soul go. I let it fly away. You watched it shrivel. And then you stepped on it. And you did all in the name of religion. A religion I don't subscribe to. No thank you. You can keep it.

And now what. I'm supposed to just move on. Forget. Live. Keep moving. Keep plugging away at this life. Where are those tears. Where is that religion. Why is the emptiness always there. Let the soul back in.

Not so easy.