I wonder what you would do if you read this letter. But I’ll never find out

Dearest Zeidy,

I am writing to you about a local family who is struggling to make ends meet. The father is a respected talmid chacham who makes a small kollel wage. The wife’s income is barely enough to cover their basic needs.

I know that you receive countless tzedakah letters every day, and many of them sound similar to this one. There is only one reason why this appeal might stir your heart more.

This wife is your granddaughter.

I live in a sprawling house in the city center, and I cannot pay my bills. You footed the down payment on this house, but the mortgage is our responsibility. In theory, it sounds like a great way to make your grandchildren independent. It’s also a great way to throw us into debt.

I know this situation isn’t really your doing. By now, you’ve retired and aren’t involved in your company’s decisions.  Maybe the new stakeholders have decided that your extended family has been supported for long enough.

I’ll skip the technical details, Zeidy, of how my father — who used to live the rich life — is suddenly counting and budgeting. My parents have enough to cover their needs, but they can’t provide for their married children like they used to.

I hate that I sound so bitter and resentful, but sometimes it’s hard to be grateful. My siblings and I were brought up without budgeting or financial concerns. Climbing down from that position to learn it all now feels unattainable.

So I suffer in silence. Because if I’m your granddaughter, then of course I have money. I can’t get tuition reductions when you support the school where I send my children. I just wish that you would know that when I see you signing a check for Tomchei Shabbos, my heart aches. Because I also struggle to make Shabbos.

Our family’s standards are so high. Daily cleaning help, takeout, and glorious vacations are the norm. When we have family gatherings, it’s done in style, on the company’s tab. I sometimes wonder if I’m the only one who feels like I’m acting in a play, but I’m too afraid to ask.

We’re trying our best. I just took on another job and my husband is trying to find work in chinuch. Our kids are happy with scrambled eggs and grilled cheese for supper, and they still look cute in cheaper clothing. We appreciate the Chanukah and Yom Tov money you send us, which goes straight to our credit card bill.

I wonder what you would do if you read this letter. But I’ll never find out. I’ll continue living behind the facade of a financially stable life, and perhaps your Tomchei Shabbos check will be used to help your own family.

With love,

Your granddaughter

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 917)