Is there something you always carry on you, even if it’s seen better days?

Project coordinator: Rachel Bachrach

Illustrations: Menachem Weinreb

A year after my mother died following a long illness, my father began to convey to me and my siblings some vague hints about his desire to remarry. Parents of that generation rarely communicated freely with their children, certainly not about sensitive issues, so a hint was about as much as we were likely to get. We knew my father wasn’t asking for permission, yet it was clear that our support would be meaningful to him.

I decided to write a letter to my father. In it I expressed our appreciation for his devotion to our mother, particularly during her illness — for two years he never left her bedside, day or night! I wrote that we understood it wasn’t in his nature to be alone, and we encouraged Abba to remarry; his happiness would be our happiness. I asked all my siblings sign the letter. (One of them demurred, claiming the whole idea of a letter was childish. I replied that I was going ahead regardless, and his omission wouldn’t look good. He relented and added his signature.)

After Abba remarried, his wife shared the following story: On their second date, the conversation turned to the topic of children. My father began boasting, “Do you want to see what kind of devoted children I have?” He proceeded to open his wallet and remove a worn, folded piece of paper. He unfolded it slowly and carefully, as it was frayed and ragged from being folded and unfolded countless times. He finally set it down in front of her and declared with overwhelming pride, “Read this.” It was our letter.

As my father was grappling with conflicting emotions of embarking on this new chapter in life, he always had on him the written affirmation of his children’s support. Reading it over and over and over yet again sustained him. The letter served as a bridge from the past to the future — Abba wasn’t abandoning his past, only building on it.

Since then, I’ve shared my experience with many people in similar situations. I always encourage them to emulate what we did in some form, explaining that it brought such nachas to our father, and we all reaped the benefits for many years.

Rabbi Yosef Sorotzkin is the rosh yeshivah of Me’or Eliyohu in Kiryat Telshe Stone, Israel, and the author of Meged Yosef Al HaTorah.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 860)