My pending surgery

This is the story about the pending surgery on my right leg.  Since my mid-20's I have experienced pain in my right hip, and later in my knees, but the right knee has always been worse than the left knee.  However, I was able, for the most part, to remain active.

In my mid-30's I began to find a need to curtail my activity due to the pain.  I was not happy about it.  It got worse as I got older and I found myself continually reducing the amount of activity I engaged in, with continuing unhappiness about it.

Over the years, I saw various doctors about this -- chiropractors, rheumatologists, orthopedists -- with no real positive results. I was told it was "growing pains", "hip bursitis" and even that it was "probably arthritis" -- even though no arthritis showed up in the x-rays of my hips!

Then, in 2010 I went to an orthopedic surgeon at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Dr. Janet Conway.  She did a thorough examination and ordered x-rays.   She then diagnosed me with an externally rotated tibia.  It was the first time I had a diagnosis that actually fit and that I felt was correct.

She suggested surgery to correct it but also suggested I try PT first.  I did the PT for three months, and was very good about doing the exercises at home as well.  It was to no avail.  I did not do the surgery with her, because by the time it would have been scheduled I would already be in Israel, as per my aliyah plans.  So, I decided to shelve the surgery until after I was settled in Israel and to pursue it there.   Besides, in the States I was paying $500 per month for health insurance that would not have covered even most of the cost of the surgery -- I doubt I could have afforded it there!

After being in Israel for several months I put out requests for recommendations for orthopedic surgeons.  The first one I saw told me that surgery could not fix my problems.  The second one I saw told me I was "too old" to fix this problem!  Finally, I was in touch with Professor Liebergall. He heads up the orthopedic surgery dept. at Hadassah hospital.  He told me to see Dr. Vladimir Goldman - he heads up the deformities and limb lengthening unit of the Orthopedic surgery department.

I made an appt. with Dr. Goldman and on my first visit with him I was very impressed. Like Dr. Conway, he was very thorough, and even came with me and provided oversight for the x-rays he ordered.  Then he ordered a CT scan.  

After I had the results of the CT scan, I went back to see Dr. Goldman, and this time with Prof. Liebergall as well.  They showed me the pictures from the CT scan and I was so amazed. So detailed!   Anyway, it showed a definite rotational deformity of the tibia as well as a minute bowing out of my leg.  Additionally, due to the arthritis in my knee, caused by the rotation of the tibia, my right leg is definitely shorter than my left one.

Dr. Goldman suggested surgery.  He told me it will require two cuts to the tibial bones, one lateral and one vertical. Then screws will be inserted and I will wear a halo type thing on my right leg, around the upper shin bones.  I will wear it for three months, during which time I will have to make "adjustments" to the frame myself.  I will be mobile, it allows for weight bearing, and I can walk -- but I will be unable to drive.

So, it is really happening.  Dr. Goldman wrote the letter and the hafnaya (referral/prescription).  Now, I wait for a date - he said likely to be after January.  Once I get the date, I go to my kupah and request a hitchayvut, which is like a combo isshur (permission) and havtacha (promise (to pay)).   I may have to fight for it but I am not worried about that right now.  I will deal with it as it happens.

I am nervous -- not so much about the surgery itself as much as about the pain involved.  I am scared of that.   I hope I will not be too much of a bitch during my recovery...

Nine Days

 I have a good life, really and truly I do.  But a few things "went wrong" for me during these past couple of weeks. One thing that went wrong is that my kupah (health insurance) for some reason initially rejected a request made for a "hitchayvut" (permission, guarantee of coverage) for a CT scan ordered by my orthopedic surgeon.  It was later corrected.  I have yet to make the appointment though, and the procrastination is yet another thing that "went wrong".

I made the mistake too, of scheduling my driving test during these two weeks.  Sure enough, I failed -- 525 NIS down the drain.  I failed not because I had done anything wrong.  I failed because the tester failed to inform me in time to make a left turn and I was continuing straight as we are supposed to do unless told to turn.  He, of course, is not owning up to the mistake and well, just another thing that "went wrong".

I was supposed to participate in a Shabbaton this Shabbat with another person.  She sent me an email at 2 pm in which she wrote she is "rethinking her plans..." and she "decided not to go".  But she was referring to a different plan, not the plan we made to attend the Shabbaton.  But I completely misunderstood her, since there was no explicit reference, and I thought she was cancelling attending the Shabbaton.  I shot off an angry email to her, and then she called me.  After some heated discussion, we straightened out the misunderstanding but I had already made alternative plans, so I am not going with her. She is not happy going alone.  But I had already "psyched" myself into the change of plans being for the better - saving me 300 NIS which I will now have to use for the next driving test.  Either way we look at this it is something else that "went wrong".

It is the Nine Days, folks!  Nine Days of things going wrong, of tragic events, of misunderstandings leading to  "sinas chinam" - usually translated as "baseless hatred".  We need to be on our guard, on our best behavior during this time.  Hashem is sending us all form of nisayonot (trials).  We must be aware, on high alert!

And we are supposed to be sad, very sad. After all, it was due to all these things that we lost a gift, a treasure, the Temple was destroyed, twice - on Tisha B'Av, which technically falls on Shabbat, and thus is observed on Sunday, the day after Shabbat.

May we all have an easy and meaningful fast and may we all be zocheh to witness the coming of Moshiach, in OUR day!

Acceptance with grace

I have been told by many people upon hearing my stories of my life and all that I have experienced that I should write a book about my life.  I have always shrugged them off, with the thinking that yes, it is nice to be validated in this way, but no, I do not have what it takes to write a book. Besides, to my mind, a book a person writes about their own life should have a point - a conclusion, a lesson to share with readers.  My life is far from over (I hope), and I have been hard pressed to know what the lesson is that I must share.

More recently, it was suggested to me that my story is a "cautionary tale" for other women either entering into, or considering entering into, or even already entered into marriage with a man for whom it is his second marriage, a man who has an ex-wife with an ax to grind and children from a first marriage who believe their lives are "a priori" for their father.  However,  I shook my head and said that I could not do that.  My reason now was that so doing would be to negate Hashem's plan for me, for my life.

I have come to conclusion, albeit not easily and not happily, that where I am in my life is where Hashem wanted me to be. I had to endure some nasty moments in my life to get here. I am living a good life. Is it perfect?  No.  Perfect, if such a thing exists, would to my mind, mean I was married, that I had a husband.  But I am living in Eretz Yisrael.  I am close to my daughter, son in law, grandchildren, sister, nieces and nephews, and friends  -- all here.

Apparently, I merited to come to Israel and to live here.  I get chills when I think about this.

I have frequently said that I have witnessed G-d's hand in my life - every time some amazingly good thing happens, every time events appear to be fortuitous, every time a seemingly random happenstance that makes everything work out just perfect, I say it was "hashgacha pratis" - divine providence, the hand of G-d, orchestrating my life.  But when the bad things happen I have not said that, I have gotten angry, upset, resentful.      Perhaps because I believe in a G-d that is good, that is benevolent, I have problems attributing to Him even the bad stuff that happens in my life.  Additionally, if I were to admit that it comes from Him, then I would also have to admit a shortcoming in myself - because G-d would not give me "bad gifts" if I did not deserve them.  Although, there is a fallacy in that thinking as well.  Perhaps G-d "shakes up my world" at times, to force me to pay attention, or to learn a lesson, or to change one or some of my ways.  Lately, however, I am trying to change my attitude and the way I view these things.  EVERYTHING is from Hashem, the good and the bad, and I have to learn to accept ALL of them with grace.  THAT is the lesson I am taking from my life thus far.

Shabbat Shalom!

In pursuit of pain-free activity...

I have something called "external tibial torsion" in my right leg. That means the tibia of my right leg is rotated externally.  In my 20's it was noticed and pointed out to me that my gait was with my right foot pointing rather noticeably to the right rather than in front of me.  I became self conscious of it and self corrected my gait.  Over time it became natural.

However, it has had another effect:  it has put stress on the muscles in my right hip, causing me pain. The pain only occurs DURING activity: walking for more than 15 or 20 minutes, dancing, hiking, biking.  When I stop the activity, the pain also stops.  The pain started occurring when I was in my mid 30's -- but periods of rest seemed to help.  Then I hit my 40's -- periods of rest did not help.

I tried analgesics, anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxants, even strong pain killers -- to no avail.  No doctor had yet diagnosed me correctly.  I was told I had "hip bursitis", or "probably arthritis" -- even though no arthritis showed up in any x-rays!  

In December 2010 I found a doctor in Baltimore who diagnosed it correctly. She told me that before we consider surgery as an option I should try physical therapy.  I spent three months, three days a week, plus exercising at home, doing physical therapy. Some of it was painful.  It did not help.   Surgery appeared to be what I needed. BUT... even with the health insurance I had (for which I was paying $500 per month!), I would not be able to afford it.  Additionally,  if I were to undertake to have the surgery, I would have had to postpone my aliyah yet another year. That last was most definitely unpalatable to me.

I decided to make aliyah, and place my bets on being able to get the surgery in Israel, and also to have it covered by the very good health care system here.

Today, I had my first meeting with an orthopedist.  It was a dismal disappointment.  He was discouraging me:  he intimated that I should "live with it".  He suggested that surgery would not help me.  He suggested I take drugs to manage the pain.   I was really dismayed. But, I insisted that I am ONLY 52, that I wish to remain active - to go hiking, to dance, to do many of the things I had always done.  I am too young to spend the rest of my life sitting!!

He finally conceded and gave me a hafnaya (referral) to an orthopedic surgeon.  Let's hope this doctor is more optimistic for me.

Better Late Than Never…

Rabbi Barry Stern a"h

But for the intervention of parental authority and the increasing obligations of life, I would have made aliyah thirty two years ago.   It was not until I met and married my late husband, Rabbi Barry Stern (a”h) a decade ago that my dream of aliyah was given free reign and allowed to flourish.  Our longing to live in Israel was palpable, and while many of our conversations were peppered with discussions of how, when and where, our fears and familial obligations kept that dream at bay.

I made aliyah six months ago.  It has been an entirely wonderful and positive experience.  However, in reading of other’s aliyah experiences it was all too easy to come away with a bad impression of life in Israel and to be frightened away from the prospect of making aliyah.  And so, In the face of the many negative experiences that others have experienced and written about, and disseminated to the public - particularly via the internet - I feel compelled to step in and offer my experiences as an antidote.

For many years before coming home, I trolled email lists, blogs, online forums and the like for any tidbits of information that could aid our planned aliyah.  In reflection, I lived vicariously through other people’s aliyah experiences.

I read about the food in Israel, how we would not be able to find our favorite brands and how we should be ready to learn to appreciate the local fare, or expect to spend a fortune of money at the checkout for the American cuisine we would crave.  I learned about cars – owning vs. leasing vs. renting vs. using public transportation and tremping (hitchhiking). I was mostly told was that we would not want a car because it would be very expensive and we would, eventually, wind up doing what everyone else does: getting around by tremping, buses, trains, and taxis.  I learned about banking in Israel – and was drilled expect to be robbed at the counter because “all the banks in Israel are about taking one’s money, not helping one to save it!”

I also read tales of olim who underwent nightmarish experiences with shippers and customs.  Either the shipper would tack on humongous unexpected fees at the destination and hold their belongings for ransom, or customs would charge exorbitant customs fees and taxes.   Whole shipments would disappear or show up completely damaged and the insurance which ostensibly was to cover replacement value would be something one could wind up fighting for months to receive. There was the story of the refrigerator that was damaged—just the door was damaged but without the door the refrigerator could not be used - and the insurance company was insisting it was only “25% damaged”. 

Additionally, I heard and read many horror stories of the unwieldy bureaucracy of Israel – of corrupt clerks, or of being shuttled back and forth between desks or offices with no one actually helping the individual accomplish the task they had set out to do.   I read stories of olim reduced to tears by uncaring and rude agency officials, having to pay more than their fare share of fees, and so on. 

Did these tales of woe frighten me?  Yes, at least a little bit.  I also have the additional “burden” of being severely hard of hearing and I require hearing aids.  Even though I had learned to speak Hebrew in an Ulpan in Israel some thirty years prior to my aliyah, my ability and fluency declined in the intervening years; as they say, “Use it or lose it” and  I feared I had lost it.  Being that much older did not help – learning a new language (or rather RE-learning it) is harder for us “older folk”. 

Then, several years into my aliyah research, tragedy struck when my beloved husband died suddenly and tragically. He had slipped and fallen on icy pavement, struck his head on the ground, and suffered a major subdural hematoma. He was brain dead upon arrival at the emergency room. We buried him six days later.

After a week of shiva, in which possibly a thousand people traipsed through my house making condolence calls, I was alone – incredibly, irrevocably alone.  It was only then, in going through my late husband’s affairs, that I came to realize that my life had been terribly altered, and the change of circumstances would be more than just a loss of my husband. Also involved was a huge change in my financial status – one that would pit me against his family and ex-wife in a litigious affair that lasted most of the two and a half years prior to my aliyah.  In the end, my losses included not only my husband, but his family, my house and home, my community (I had to move to a more affordable community), my car, and my job.   

None of this stopped me, however, from pursuing my dream of making aliyah. I even continued to read the horror stories (while living one of my own).  In retrospect, I realize now that I was trying to internally “prepare for the worst”.  So, in a bid to avert disaster, I then went to work:  I researched everything: cars, banks, finance issues in Israel, places to live, cost of living, health care, housing, employment, services for the hearing impaired; you name it, I researched it.   I accumulated all the pertinent documents and articles and information and compiled all the information into a binder, organized by topic.  I discovered organizations that offer personal grants to Jews making aliyah.  I sold some of my possessions to help finance my aliyah, in addition to the grants which I received.   I reached out to my friends who were already living in Israel and told them of my plans and asked for their help.  

So here I am, living in Israel.

I made aliyah and shipped all my worldly possessions to Israel.  My interactions with the shipper in the States, the shipper in Israel and with customs was very smooth.  A few boxes initially went missing, and a few items sustained minor damage.  Ultimately four out of the five missing boxes were returned to me, and the damages were repaired or minor enough to leave alone.  I was insured for the missing fifth box.  My possessions were not held ransom and there were no surprises like additional fees in store for me. The workers who came and packed me up and loaded the truck and those who unloaded and unpacked my belongings were extremely respectful to me and of my possessions.  I would describe this as a positive experience. 

I eat the food that I can afford to buy and I am not starving nor missing “American” delicacies.  Much of what I ate while in the US is readily available here, and it is not all exorbitantly priced.  I drive a car, and yes, it is quite expensive to drive in Israel.  But I had made the decision before I came to Israel that I would have a car and would be willing to give up other “creature comforts” for that mobility.  It was a decision based in the reality of whom and what I am:  a fifty-two year old woman with arthritis in her knees and ankles and a congenital hip deformity.  Walking to the trempiada, or bus stop, or train station, dealing with a multitude of weather changes, schlepping bags of groceries or whatever I had need of schlepping – well, it just was not going to be do-able for me anymore.   A car was (and is), to my mind, a necessity.

I have a US bank account which does not charge me foreign transaction fees, a credit card with no foreign transaction fees, an Israeli bank account that does NOT charge fees for every standard transaction, health insurance with Maccabi Zahav that is quite amazing (I can make appointments with my doctors online!) and have had no problems dealing with any of the bureaucrats I have had to do my business with.  It is true that many of the bureaucrats working within Israel’s extremely hierarchical infrastructure lack a true sense of customer service and are oftentimes rather abrupt in their interactions with the public, and sometimes even downright rude.  However, I learned a valuable lesson from my mother:  honey catches more flies than vinegar.  Translated, this means to always smile and be nice to those you are dealing with, even if they are not – trust me, it never fails, to at the very least, to soften them up.  I have found it usually changes their demeanor to downright sunny!

I have retained enough Hebrew to manage my life (although holding a deep, profound philosophical discussion in Hebrew remains beyond my abilities), and I am living in a lovely community in a beautiful house.  I have a blossoming social life and am close to my family here which includes my married daughter, two grandsons, my sister and her family, several nieces and nephews, and my mechutenet.  I am close to many of my friends who made aliyah from Monsey, Teaneck and Baltimore – all the communities in which I lived at one time or another. I have made many new friends as well. 

It never occurred to me that I could not do this.  It still does not.  I am here.  In the face of many trials and tribulations I made aliyah in August 2011.  I did so with the help of Nefesh B’Nefesh, The Cyrus Foundation, Ebenezer, and the Jewish Agency and with the help of my wonderful family and amazing friends.   I did so by being resourceful and never taking no for an answer, but mostly, I did it with the help of Hashem – to whom I spoke and prayed on a daily basis – asking for the zechut to make aliyah and to live in the Holy Land, Eretz HaKodesh.  Apparently He said “yes”.  I have so much to be thankful for and I bless and thank Hashem every day for the miracles He has allowed me to witness. 

The Forgotten Single

I recently posted a rant on my Facebook.  Then, I deleted it.  But not before it went live and many of my friends likely saw it.  I regret posting the rant but I do not divorce myself from the feelings expressed.

I am single and I truly dislike it.  For most of the two and a half years after my husband died, I was alone.  Oh, my brother and his family lived nearby for some of that time, and my parents are both (B"H) still around.  I am pretty close to them all, too.  I also have a number of good friends who would invite me to their homes for Shabbat meals and Chagim.  But some of those invitations came by way of me reverse engineering them...

For the most part, married couples with families tend to forget about us singles.  I was once told, when I mentioned this to my Rabbi, that of course I was not forgotten.  But he was wrong. I WAS forgotten.  It is actually normal:  people get very busy and involved in their lives - thus they forget that there are others who do not have such busy lives.

I tried to arrange my life in such a way as to alleviate this "aloneness" and loneliness.  I made aliyah, and joined forces with my daughter and her husband in setting up a new home. We are living together under one roof and sharing our resources.  This would accomplish a number of things for all of us.  It would enable us to live a higher standard of living and to be able to afford it.  It would allow me to be a part of my children and grandchildren's lives and I would not be alone.  It would afford Chloe some help at home with my presence.

To be sure, this is not an ideal situation.  But, for the most part, we all get along, with some minor disagreements.  But then, that is also normal.  I know of no family unit that has no disagreements.  In that we are a normative family unit.  Historically, families used to be comprised of multiple generations living under one roof, for all the same reasons described above.

But, for me, the issue of loneliness still exists.  Why?  As is both expected and normal, my daughter and her husband have their own set of friends -- age appropriate and dealing with the same issues as they are.  While I am, of course, friendly to their friends -- and they exhibit the same reciprocal feelings -- they are not MY friends and I am not theirs.  In short, it is not MY social circle.

When I was married I had a large social circle of married couples.  We were friendly with many couples with whom we socialized -- inviting them to Shabbat meals, going to their homes for Shabbat meals, and so on. With the death of my husband, I lost this social circle.  Over time, and rather quickly, not gradually, the invitations stopped coming, and people no longer accepted my invitations to them to come to my home for a meal.   Over time, I stopped asking.  Over time, I stopped begging for invites.

Now, my daughter and her husband would like to go away for a Shabbat or Chag and be with their friends. But that leaves me out in the cold, once again alone.  I want them to be able to go, and not feel guilty about leaving me.  But I also do not wish to be alone.

I find that more and more the only people with whom I can be are also single women like myself.  While I truly enjoy their company, it gets old, fast.  I need the variety of socializing with many people, both men and women and also their children.

I am not one to call people and invite myself over. It feels rude, it feels demeaning, it feels like begging.  Additionally, it is very uncomfortable when I do that and the response has to be no.  It is uncomfortable for the people whom I am asking and for me.  The best would be if someone would remember me, and invite me to their home for a meal or two.  I would accept -- gladly.

I am just as guilty as others of the crime of forgetting those who are single and alone.  I rarely, if ever, thought to call those whom I knew were single and invite them to join me and my family for meals.  So, in a sense, this is payback.

But it does not have to be this way. I just do not know what to do to change it.

Those are my thoughts.  I needed to share them in a nicer way than the rant I should not have posted.

If I offended anyone with that prior rant, please accept my apologies...

I am flexible...

I started my career in the fashion and retail industries (In 1982). I started in retail sales.  I became a buyer.  I then did visual merchandising management (presentation of merchandise through displays (interior and window) and the arrangement of the merchandise).  I have designed, produced and sold my own creations:  costume jewelry and 3D collages made from beads, buttons, bows, rhinestones, watch parts, charms and the like.  I  was a partner in a cottage industry – we designed, produced and sold a modular line of women’s knitwear  -- I was in charge of marketing and sales, and my partner did design and production.  I had my own business in which I designed, produced and installed major seasonal and holiday themes for shopping centers and malls. An offshoot of this was that I also did events production and management, fashion shows, pageants, and the like.  When I hurt my back in 1996, I took a job as a merchandising manager for Lee Jeans (wholesale side now) and Gloria Vanderbilt.  It was easy work for me. While I was doing that, I purchased my first computer system and taught myself how to use computers, how to use Microsoft Office (word, outlook, excel, access, publisher, and powerpoint), I taught myself how to use the internet, and then I taught myself how to set up and design webpages (using HTML, CSS, and Javascript).   I got a job as a content manager editor for an online Jewish singles website, and then I became a content manager for an online fashion website (to the trade).  The dot com bubble burst and I was out of work for about a year and a half.  Then I began working for Bnei Akiva of the US and Canada as the registrar for their Mach Hach B’Aretz program – it was there that I cut my teeth learning about nonprofits.  I stayed there for five years.  I then went to work for American Friends of Shalva and that is where I learned all about fundraising.  When I moved to Baltimore I went to work for the Jewish Museum of Baltimore and learned how to write grants (literally by the seat of my pants!).  All that has brought me to where I am now!  I am doing a bit of grant writing and some nonprofit consulting….

From my files

The other day I was going through my files, looking for information pertaining to some contact information I could not locate.  In so doing, I had to browse through many of the old files pertaining to the death of my husband including all the many "letters" I wrote and never sent.  Below is a revised "letter".  The changes I made to it have to do with tense -- at the time I wrote it, it was written in the present tense.  I have simply changed all that to the past tense, since all this is now in the past.  But it is one of my "finer" letters, detailing  what I was going through, what I went through, and its impact on me.  I am posting it here for posterity...

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After the death of my late husband in January 2009, I was reeling – with all the emotions attendant to losing my husband – and will all the issues I had to contend with.

My first order of business had been to get organized – no mean feat – as I still had to continue to work full time. At the same time I tried to make my life as ‘normal’ as possible and to keep my relationship with Barry’s family – his daughters, his parents and his sisters.

Two weeks after Barry died, my daughter gave birth to her first child, and my first grandson. I went to Israel, where she lived, for the bris of my grandson but stayed only for three days.  I barely remember that visit, I was still in a grief and shock induced fog.  While I was still sitting shiva I was offered the opportunity for a new job and I took it.  I took it despite knowing that it was not a good idea to undertake large changes to one’s life after an unchosen and life altering event such as the loss of a spouse.   I felt I had no choice:  I knew that the new job about doubled my the job I had at the time, and I also knew that I was going to NEED the additional income.  It was a risk I felt I had to take.

I had to meet with a number of attorneys – for the estate, for the wrongful death lawsuit that I had hoped to file, but which, in the end I was unable to file – no attorney would take the case as there was little to no forensic evidence to prove any wrongdoing in the death of my husband.   I had to meet with accountants, a psychiatrist, and a grief counselor. Most of this continued for the better part of the next two and half years!

It took nearly two months for the life insurance money to arrive – and during those two months I had to figure out how to deal with the mortgage and home equity loan. I learned later that my name had somehow been removed from the deed to the house and thus I really should have had zero obligations to either the mortgage or the HELOC.  In the end, I was released of the responsibility.  However, upon the bad advice of my attorney, I continued to pay the mortgage and heloc for the entire year of 2009!  It was lost money in the end! He thought I would get it back in negotiations with the substitute administrator of the estate.  He thought wrong!

Every day, I came home to an empty house, and a pile of mail – from creditors, doctors, letters from the insurance company, from the accountants, the lawyers, etc. After a full day of work, I then spent more time working at home on making sense of everything, scanning, and filing and emailing and making sure the bills were paid.    Every day, I checked my budget, and checked my bank account and looked to see if there was yet something else I may not have thought of that I have to take care of. I cut out all non necessities – and, even doing that, I still had a financial burden meant to be shouldered by a larger income (the combined incomes of myself and Barry). The total expenses I faced per year were greater than my gross income.  I had no choice but to dip into some of the life insurance money to help me stay afloat. 

Had Barry taken care of things as he should have, I too would have been in better shape—there should have been at least 350k in life insurance for me and Chloe, and 375k for his daughters. There should have been a will.  But this was not the case, and so I tried to make the best of a bad situation. 

After Pesach 2009 I received a call from Barry’s mother.  She demanded that I give the life insurance money to her granddaughters.  I tried to explain to her why I could not do that.  I was in a very precarious situation financially and was extremely unsure of where I stood legally with regard to everything else- the estate, the retirement accounts, etc.  I also simply had not even had time to catch my breath, and to feel normal. I was being hounded by everyone – doctors, lawyers, creditors, banks, and then, my in-laws.   I was under the care of a psychiatrist and a grief counselor. I was on medication to help me deal with the anxiety produced by this state of affairs. His mother refused to understand my position, called me immoral and unethical and then went on to tell me that, “by the way, everyone is coming to us for Shavuot”.  It was very clear to me that she was telling me “and you are not welcome”.   It was a very painful moment in my life.

On top of losing the one person who made me feel cared for and loved, my husband, I also lost those I had considered to be my family.  Barry’s mother was truly stunning in her cruelty, with her remarks about the family’s Shavuot plans. She should be very proud of herself. She was determined to hurt me, and she was successful. I applaud her cruelty.

I gave each of Barry’s daughters the sum of $1800 (for a total of $7200).  It was both a gift and a good faith portion of the life insurance – good faith that I will take care of them as best as I am able – once I was able to ascertain exactly where I stood with regard to the estate and retirement funds.

I was truly sorry for Barry’s parent’s loss – no parent should ever have to bury a child – and while it is not for me to say who has a greater loss than another - I am the one who has had to bear the brunt of it far more than anyone else. After all, I am the one who came home to an empty house every night and I am the one who had to deal with the detritus of his life and of his death.  I am the one who was homeless every Shabbat and every Chag and went from one person’s home to another so I should not sit and eat alone.   Barry’s family certainly did nothing to alleviate that for me. Not once did any member of Barry’s family reach out to me to ask me how I am managing, to invite me to their Shabbat table, to be with the family as a member of the family. NOT ONCE.  (My sister in law Karen did, but belatedly, when she came around to the understanding that I was being treated very shabbily by Barry’s ex-wife, his daughters, and my in-laws.)

I am also the one who made Barry happy in the last nine plus years of his life. I gave him the life he wanted – with the Shabbatot, with the family, enabling him to sit and learn so he could receive semicha. I was the one to whom he turned when he came home after being beaten down by his nasty boss at IDT. I was the one to whom he turned when he could not win an argument with his ex wife. I was the one to whom he turned in the middle of the night when he woke with night fears or with leg cramps. I was the one to whom he cried when he felt that his parents did not think he was “good enough”.  I was the one with whom he shared his elation at working for IBM and at how well he was treated there. I also was the one he turned to when he felt that his daughters did not love him, or even respect him.  As they each “came of age” and were no longer obligated by the terms of the divorce child custody arrangement to spend half their time with us, they no longer came to us – EVER.  Barry was VERY hurt by this.  Once in a blue moon one or the other of them would deign to give him 15 minutes of their time over a cup of coffee at the Lazy Bean Café (which, btw, was where he fell and died, on his way to meet two of them for the aforementioned 15 minutes of grudgingly given “quality time”).

Barry had been my rock, my support, my strength, he was the one to whom I turned. We had a wonderful marriage and were very much in love. In the last several months of his life he was the happiest he had ever been.  Barry gave me so much, and one of the things he gave me was a beautiful family. However, that was simply an illusion – I learned after his death that his “beautiful family” was not so beautiful after all, and it certainly was not “mine”.  They did not love me as much as I had loved them. 

Fodder for laughter, after the fact...

I was reading some one else's aliyah post and for some reason it put me in mind of one of the sillier experiences I had in the process of preparing for my aliyah. When one is planning aliyah there are myriad details that one must take care of.  One of those details is to provide for the reading pleasure of the Jewish Agency a letter written by a Rabbi attesting to one's Jewish identity.

I am fortunate to have as a "friend of the family" a somewhat illustrious Rabbi -- Rabbi Berel Wein.  It was from him that I requested such a letter.  He willingly agreed and wrote and sent me a letter, written in Hebrew, attesting to his knowledge of me, my family, and my Jewish identity.  That letter was written on letterhead from his organization, The Destiny Foundation.  I showed the letter to the Jewish Agency rep who was interviewing me for acceptance for aliyah and she told me that it must be on "synagogue letterhead".  I was incredulous.  This was Rabbi Berel Wein! This was his Foundation!  Nope - not good enough!

I again contacted Rabbi Wein, explained to him what the Jewish Agency had asked.  Again, he willingly wrote me a letter. Actually, this time he wrote TWO letters.  One was on letterhead from Beit Knesset HaNasi which is his shul in Jerusalem, Israel. The other was on letterhead from Bais Torah of Monsey, which had been his shul in Monsey, NY.  Both letters were written in Hebrew.

I showed both letters to the Jewish Agency rep.  This time she said the letters were no good because he wrote that both my parents were Jewish.  She told me that the letter should state that my MOTHER is Jewish!   Absurd!

With some embarrassment, I again asked Rabbi Wein for a new letter, explaining why his two letters were not sufficient.  Rabbi Wein is a paragon of patience. He said not a word but simply rewrote BOTH letters to comply with this latest request.

Again, I showed both these new letters to the Jewish Agency rep.  I waited with bated breath for the verdict:  "mekubal!".  She accepted these letters!  B"H!  

I look at this simply as fodder for laughter after the fact...

Words I cherish...

My late husband had written these words just several weeks before his untimely death.  I find this to be so validating in light of all the crap I had to suffer through subsequent to his death.

"We're picking up so much debt paying for your sister's schools that we probably won’t be able to go on aliyah until we retire, IF we will be able to retire.  Rachel's a great wife, and people don't even realize it, but I do.  Her only real daughter lives in Israel and she hasn’t complained to me that we are taking these loans for your sister's schools that in our mind now precludes us from going on aliyah and her being with her daughter and me with my other kids."