A pattern changes
This evening after work, I visited my dad. He’s 95 years old and lives in a nursing home. Driving home, I was thinking of Maya’s connection with Pop. Though Maya got her goofiness and silliness from her dad, I believe she got much of her wit and love for puns from my dad.
When Maya first died, I was not able to share the news with him. I was really deep in my own shock and trauma. I absolutely could not manage to tell him at that time. There had been a bit of thought whether to let him know at all. But with the support of a dear friend who basically mirrored my sentiments, I knew that he had to know. I’ve been so open with all, I had to be open with him. It wasn’t only for him, but for me too. Whenever I visit him, we’d typically speak about Adin and Maya, two of his four precious grandchildren. What would it be like if after talking about Adin, he asked how Maya was doing? Julia also mentioned that he may find a way to comfort me. I had no idea that this could be possible. It was about six weeks after Maya’s passing that Mathew and I went to “Pop’s” to share the news of our deep loss.
A piece of history that I’ve lived with for most of my life is that after my sister, Steffie’s death in 1972, dad did not utter her name. Our family could not even whisper Steffie’s name in his presence. I now know that it was a defense mechanism; it was just too painful. But for years, I could not understand it. “Was it as if he just deleted her memory?” was always in the back of my aching heart.
When we went to let dad know in mid-November, I went without any expectations. The outcome was precious and poignant. I started by sharing a few times with him that my daughter, Maya died. When it sank in, he asked, “how?” I told him that she took her life and he was devastated. He asked “why?” In the best way that I knew how, I explained that she was a very sensitive person and put the needs of other needs first, like my mom. She had depression and I told him about the drugs. I shared that she was not in her right mind when she took her life. He shed tears.
What was so unexpected for me was that he took my hands. He started stroking them. And then he picked them up and kissed them several times. He did this several times over the couple of hours that I was there. I was deeply moved. At 95 years old, my dad was able to comfort his adult daughter. I’ve been caring for him of late, and he found a way to care for me. Julia was right.
At one point, dad said, “Thank heaven that you’re…” He never finished the sentence. Other times, I’ll take a guess and try to finish the sentence for him. But this time, I just waited. After a long pause, I said, “Dad, I heard you say, ‘thank heaven that you’re’…dad, that I’m what?” He didn’t answer. My dad is an atheist through and through. I then said, “dad, I never heard you say the words, ‘thank heaven’ before”. He agreed, “yes, I never said ‘thank heaven’’. “Okay, I just heard you say, ‘thank heaven that you’re’…” And again, he said, “I never said thank heaven before”.
And in talking about Maya, at one point, he said, “she’s with the two others now”. I didn’t want to assume, so I asked him to clarify. He just repeated that Maya was with the two others. I asked him specifically, “do you mean Nina (my mom) and Steffie?” He said, “no, her two other selves”.
Near the end of our visit, dad was talking of Maya in the past and I responded that, “I am going to keep Maya alive in my heart forever”. And then dad repeated, “I am going to keep Maya alive in my heart forever, too”. He said this again a couple of times. What a change for dad from the last forty years.
Photos of Maya with Pop and family, 2001, 2005, 2011, 2015 and a photo of Stephanie Marissa Gold, 1964
Sending hugs and love ……💜💜💜💜💜
Thank you for sharing this beautiful and painful experience with us. I am honored to witness
This is beautiful, Elise. I remember you also sharing that your father reminded you somehow that when it comes to intense grief, time is the healer . . . and that he was speaking from the experience of his own loss of a child. That actually stuck with me, even though I already know this intellectually. Coming from your father, it took on a new meaning.
All that you share is a gift.
Yes Yael, you have shed light on an important connection. This idea about time continues to stay with me, too.
Oh, Elise, this is so profound I just have to share something from my own experience. I hope you don’t mind.
When my mom was in her 80s and suffering from multiple ailments I too had to place her in a nursing home. At this point she was barely cognizant, almost unable to speak, and most visits there was no real connection. One day I went there after a terrible day in which I had had to make a very difficult decision regarding one of my sons, who was, at that time, on a particularly bad patch of a self-destructive path. My heart was breaking. I had never told my mother, even when she was still more cognizant, about his drug addiction. I didn’t think she could handle it.
That day when I walked into her room I saw something in her eyes- she was there! She was present! I rushed to her and took her hands and it wasn’t long before I poured my heart out to her, told her what was breaking my heart, the whole thing. At one point she spoke! It was almost unintelligible, but then I realized what she said and confirmed: “You said ‘I understand!'” and she squeezed my hands hard! There were two more little spoken phrases that day and my mom was able to comfort me! It was amazing. I will never forget that day. It brings tears to my eyes as I type.
So I am with you, Elise, and I am so glad you shared with your dad and gave him the opportunity to comfort you and also heal himself in a way.
When beauty comes out of such deep pain this way, we can feel that wholeness that we can call “Shalom”.
Much love,
Bonnie
My entire being is saying, “wow!” right now. Thank you for sharing, Bonnie.
Elise. I have read every post and have not commented because I haven’t the words to share what is in my heart. I also felt like our connection was in the past even though I spent most of my childhood feeling and wishing that you and Jody were my sisters. I felt my heart break at your loss and have been moved to tears by your journey to continue to love and honor your daughter and find resilence for yourself. I wanted to write when hearing of your fathers ability to both comfort you and move beyond his way of dealing with profound loss to do it differently for you. Our love for our children allows us to change even at his age. Please know that I love you and your family. I wish I was geographically close enough to join your minyan. Much love. Beth
Dear Beth,
It’s so very interesting. I had a feeling that I was going to hear from you today. Thank you for reaching out, for all your thoughts and sentiments.
Love, Elise
Dear Beth,
Thank you so very much for your beautiful sentiments about our family. You and your family were such a special part of Stephie’s and our family’s life. How touching that the connection goes on, over 40 yrs. later.
Warmly,
Jody
It is very moving to see the photo of your sister, Elise. How wonderful that you were able to receive your father’s wisdom and compassion.
Maya’s two other selves… I wonder what that means.
love
Jo
I wonder with you. I think about Maya’s twin sometimes, the “disappearing twin”. Maya had always been troubled knowing that she had a twin. (Well, that could be one of the two that my dad referred to. Who knows?)
Beautiful beyond words dear LiLi. xo
My dear sister,
I am so overwhelmed by being able to read and reread this story. Although you told me what happened when you were at dad’s that day, it is so different for me to be able to see it in words, go over it slowly, at my own pace. Hearing you speak the words that day, was so charged for me with your loss, and naturally, dad’s handling of Stephie’s loss and our living for years, with his coping needs.
I am also ever grateful that dad, and mom too, moved upstate and got to spend the time they did with Adin and Maya. I can say that the way you included dad, in particular, as he was more able, into your family’s life and events, was so fulfilling for him. He really got to know and experience your children. You took him to trapeze lessons, school and community events, festivals, afternoons at home, napping with I believe Macabee, meal preparation or clean up….. Who knew when the decision was made for our ailing parents to move, how so many lives would be enriched. I’m eternally grateful that Maya gave her “Pop”” such joy and pride and I hope she knew that she did.
Jody, it was a huge mutual gift! The memories you shared here all fill our hearts.
Elise:
wow..what wisdom from you father.. I remember Steffie, adorable little girl.
I love you..
Maxine
dear Elise,
you had shared this beautiful story about Irv before with me, but I had never seen Stephanie. How precious to see her face, and imagine that she looks a little like Maya when she was small.
It seems too much to have to go through two such huge losses. But I am comforted that Maya is with “her two other selves.”
I’m so glad Irv was able to comfort you and be so open.
love
Leslie
Thank you for sharing this. I am without words.