Dear Mrs. Bluth,
Maybe this comes a little too late for any advice, but I have nothing more to lose. I am in my early eighties, visiting with my son and his family to see whether there is any chance I might be able to resettle myself near them. You may be wondering why this should even be a question, lets just say that due to some errors my late husband and I made in the past, we need to consider it.
Let me explain; I would appreciate your guidance.
My husband, my best friend, passed away three years ago. Financially, I was set, however, I do know that as the years pass, I will soon need daily assistance. We had moved to Israel twenty-eight years ago, after our youngest son married. Many of our friends had already made the move. We lived a good life, just as we had in the United States. Then my husband died. Some of our friends had already moved back to be with their families and it occurred to me that I had little connection with our children and grandchildren. In fact, after my husband’s death, none of them even asked if I wanted to come visit.
We married later in life, my husband and I. I was twenty-seven and he was almost forty. We both had little recollection of our pre-war experiences. My husband did well financially and our lives were spent traveling and enjoying. We were rarely home, even after out children were born – we had a full-time housekeeper and nanny. When we were home we spent little time with the kids, as they were always off with their friends going to sporting events, dance lessons, music recitals and so on. Holidays were spent in hotels and, since we moved in these circles with other couples who lived the same way, nothing seemed out of place. The kids grew up and brought home spouses and, before we knew it, we were alone in a big, empty house. It was then that we decided to move, along with three other couples we were close with. There was no longer a need for my husband to work full time and the regular residual checks were more then enough to sustain us to the end of time.
Our connection to our children was distant. We heard from them when new grandchildren were born, on birthdays and graduations, and when money was needed. On the few occasions that we returned to the States for major events, we stayed at a hotel in Manhattan and met the children for dinner. It did little to forge a bond with the grandchildren. When our eldest grandson got married, we sent a lovely check and excused ourselves from attending as my husband couldn’t make the long trip. My daughter was furious. But as she pointed out, we had missed three quarters of the milestones in her life, why should this be different. Then, she all but cut off relations with us and my husband refused to have anything to do with her. He felt she was ungrateful and disrespectful of all the good he had provided for her and her family and this vile treatment of us was unacceptable.
With our son and his family there was somewhat more of a connection. He made the effort to call and his children would call before a Yom Tov. His sons’ bar mitzvos were at the Kotel so we were able to be there and, when my husband died, he and sons flew out to Israel to be with me for a few days. This was a great comfort to me, although it was a bit strained for the children. My daughter did not come, nor did she call.
I went it alone for the next three years, filling up my empty days with mundane, unimportant and unsatisfying things. I tagged along with some of my couple friends and felt like an appendage.
Two months ago I decided to come stay with my son and daughter-in-law and to attempt to reconnect with my daughter and her family with whom we had been estranged for so many years.
Sadly, there is not enough room in my son’s house for me as they live in cramped quarters and I have not been able to connect as well with my grandchildren. However, I am considering by a larger home for them with a separate apartment where I could live with a caregiver.
So here I sit, surrounded by a family of strangers who cannot find a place for an old mother unless she buys them a large house with a separate space for herself. I am not sure how to fix all of the mistakes I have made over the years. I look to you for some encouragement, support and advise in the hope that I can still turn this around and have some sort of redemption.
Dear Friend,
Life, as they say, was never meant to be easy. For some, it is harder than for others – whether by Hashem’s will or through their own making. Sadly, after reading your letter, I come to the understanding that Hashem’s will had little to do with how your life turned out, it was more the choices you made that dictated this outcome.
I have had the occasion to work with many Holocaust survivors; the trauma and struggles spans their entire lifetime and colors every aspect of their existence. However, not many were as financially well-off as you and your husband. What I have realized is that no matter what their lifestyle, the common denominator was the devotion and the loved they lavished on their children. They all poured their life into raising children who would do honor to the memory of their departed family members. This is what I found strangely absent in your experience.
You describe a life that included only yourself and your husband, the pleasures you afforded yourselves due to your good fortune, your needs and wants, almost to the complete exclusion of the things your children needed. You saw yourselves as great parents through your pocket, while pulling tight the drawstrings of your heart and your mind to satisfy your own desires. There was nothing left in your physical and emotional banks to provide your children with demonstrative love, emotional security to build self-esteem and social connections, and safety to bond deeply with parents who are always there to support and guide them. You allowed strangers to raise your children, hired teachers and outside mentors to do what you should have done and looked to your own pleasures while they watched their friends’ parents root and cheer them on.
For this you have paid the steep price that such actions extract. A dollar amount will never take the place of “I love you,” a gift will never replace a kiss and a rare dinner out will never compare to the closeness that parents who are involved, caring and available develop with their children. That bond takes a lifetime to evolve and lasts forever. There is no way to recoup what has been lost at this juncture – but there is still hope.
Call your daughter and ask to meet with her. I hope that she will have softened enough over the years to want to see her mother again. Express to her the desire to make amends and hope that she, too, wants the same. Speak to your son and daughter-in-law and express the same sentiments to them and tell them that you wish to make up for the time lost and mend the family. I know this will be a hard task to undertake, but the answers lie with you and whether you can reach their inner child, the little child that lives within us all and who’s needs must be fulfilled if forgiveness and healing is to take place. Most importantly, you must be prepared to hear their pain and regret and to own up to your part in it. Express your sadness at not having them in your life and hopefully they too feel the same.
A new year is upon us, offering the opportunity to mend hurts, fix broken hearts and fuse damaged relationships. If we reach deep into our hearts with forgiveness as we ask for forgiveness, I truly feel all will be forgiven.