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You'll never know how much I wanted all year to have my mom talk to her

A letter she wrote to her mother (from whom) on the flight back to Israel ahead of the wedding later

Monday, October 2, 1972

Dear Mom,...

We've been on the air for an hour and a half, flying over Baltimore, Philadelphia (we could see the game), New York, Boston and now we're on our way across the Atlantic. Fly over Belfast (yikes!), Then to Paris and then to Rome. On the plane we were already served cocktails (nectar for me). Dinner will be here pretty soon and the movie I see is The Public Eye - a big deal.

I decided to write to you separately because there are many things I want to tell you. I talked to Dad - I need to find a new way to communicate - it seems I can not do it through letters, and tapes it's worse - all I do with them is quarrels, tension and nerves. I'll have to invent something.

Last night Aunt Sarah said our last name should not be Wolf - he should be Fred - because of our stubbornness. She's 100% right - I see it in me and just - oh I do not know! She was right about something else too, she said that somehow we can never say what we are going to say. Expressing any kind of emotion is actually difficult for us, even almost physically impossible.

Of course, it's easy to be sentimental and ostentatious about trivial trivial things, but when it comes to essential, personal things that really touch us, somehow it can not be said. I do not have to say "we" - I really only have to speak for myself, I mean all this in the first person. I do not express myself well enough in things that are seemingly so small and easy, I just can not express them.

Here I am again going round and round and obscuring what I intend to say with meaningless and unrelated words. Anyway - to keep it simple, what I'm trying to say in all this, is how sorry I am. I want to tell you some things I hope you understand, but I'm quite in doubt, because in my stubborn and daring way, I did my best to hide them.

I do not think you can know how much I appreciate everything you have done for me this summer in terms of training. Mom, it totally tore me apart - pure anguish - when I realized how much I hurt you at the beginning of the summer. Without asking you to understand my motives (obviously everyone has different perspectives on this issue),

I beg you please forgive me. I'm sorry. And it amazes me how you could tolerate me so much - as you did - to you all my kosher matters seem like petty nonsense and triviality, and an invasion of your "domain" - so really, I'm so sorry, and I thank you and appreciate it so much. Oops, this comes out corny. I do not mean it corny, just seriously and honestly.

As for me - apart from all the concerns you raised: "How serious are we?", "What can he do for himself?", "How will you live?", "Do not disconnect", etc., of all these, the only thing that bothered me, most of all, There was the injury, which apparently, I caused you by not telling you earlier (about my relationship with Eli). You will never know how much I wanted all year (in college) to have a mom to talk to, trust her, ask for advice, lean on sometimes, feel safe in the environment, participate in my experiences, especially on my first date. Now all my feelings and deep feelings come out from within.

I really think that more than anyone I know, when it comes down to it, despite all our differences and external "lack of imagination", I think only you can really understand me and comfort me when I really need it - like when I have the "no bursts of crying" My spontaneous reason (Stanley's wedding) and I can not stop - the one I really depend on.

All of this may be a shock to you - or you may be wondering why I say all this. I guess it's just because I think maybe you think we moved away and did not get close, and I know I certainly did not do much to change that impression personally, and yet inside I feel the opposite, and I do want you to know what I really think and not what I show so strongly And sorrow from without.

It's important to me to be close to you, and I think it's important to you too, and yet the situation shows that neither of us knows what to do and how to approach the other. I just do not know why I could not say it in person - and I never could - but I really do feel that way. There are so many things I learn from you, no matter what I show from the outside. And I'm so sorry if I hurt you this summer - that I was distant, cold and domineering. I did not mean for it to be this way. I do not know what's wrong with me.

I'm a little worried about you. You've been through so much this summer - one thing after another, a constant worry of work, and so on. I'm trying to help in my own way [hey guess what? The lady next to me just told me she's on her honeymoon. She's in her 50s or so, her second marriage - isn't that nice ?! She told me to tell you] but I guess I failed at that too. I guess it was a combination of pressure from the hospitality and company of Ilana and Toby that came for me, and also the feeling of being at home and missing Israel, and Roda's troubles, etc. - I do not know, but I was really wrong, and I write to you in big and honest letters a combination of "I Sorry 'and' Thank you '. I love you and I want you to take it easy and relax and unwind and take care of yourself.

I discover all sorts of interesting things from the people around me on the plane. There is a young man across the aisle whose wife has left him and he has turned to religion and medicine and is on his way to Jordan to work at a tuberculosis clinic - voluntarily. Now I'm on a plane of people on their way to Europe or beyond - each from his own world with his own life. It's really amazing if you think about it.

I hope you get it soon (I will send it by mail from Rome) because it really bothers me. Enjoy the family reunion and say hello to everyone. We're across the Atlantic and I'm starving and looking forward to dinner, and I'm scared too, and I have a headache from crying and all that 'wavy' stuff. Write soon (without excuses) and take care of Dad and yourself.

Love,

Deb



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