Dear Family,
Another Pesach is coming. Most in my current circles are hesitant, perhaps unable to undertstand just how difficult this holiday is for me.
I have all these memories of my family, of my siblings and me, growing up together, singing while we worked in the kitchen. The memories of me growing up aren't all good, but a lot of them were.
I went to pick up some items from The Mrs.' L and M and it's uncanny how much their homes smell like home. Chicken soup, potato kugel, cakes, regardless of when I enter these homes, I am always and consistently welcomed with open arms, without judgement, and without my fear of being kicked out. One of the Mrs.' grabbed me and hugged me. It has been too long since I've seen her. Most people cannot understand what it is that I am going through. I suspect that it takes adversity to build humblness, and thse women have humility in spades.
I realize that I have erred in how long it's been since I've written. A lot has occurred in the family while I've gone. Life has moved on, with or without me. If my children were not such a part of your lives, chances are you would have long ago moved on without a single memory of me. As it is, I'm aware that all my pictures are gone from the walls, that my childhood bedroom has been redecorated, and that there is a slow progression of the removal of "me" from the lives of everyone in the community and family who has ever known me. I have become an afterthought.
