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The Succah That Almost Wasn’t

But, you know, I don’t want to “skip Succos” anymore

How wonderful to feel you have hundreds, perhaps thousands, of close friends who share your fears and tears, your challenges and triumphs. I was reminded of that when a longtime reader recently wrote to tell me that my articles about raising my son Saadya z”l over the years gave her chizuk to face her personal challenges. Saadya succumbed to COVID-19 in April. I’m so grateful to this reader for that comment, because those words are actually a nechamah for me — and so important in my search for clarity, to find the answer to the “why” of what the One Above has determined for me.

I just put up my succah. Yes, even though there are no men in residence at this address. Originally, I was going to skip it. A few weeks ago, I mentioned to someone close to me that I wasn’t sure about putting up a succah — why bother?

“Really, you just want to sit inside and ignore Succos?” she asked me.

Well, yes, in fact, that’s the general idea…

But then I realized she was right. Not building a succah, ignoring Succos, would essentially mean I was giving into the “why” that has no answer.

 

“Yes, I am going to build a succah,” I told her — and I meant it.

Where to begin? First, I gave the gardener extra money to cut down branches overhanging the deck. Next, the succah itself. Different crews have put up my succah over the years: neighbors’ sons, a son-in-law and grandsons, young men whose phone number I found posted to the corner lamppost.

But this year is different. And this year, once I decided I’m not skipping Succos, I decided I’m going to build the succah by myself (well, myself with the assistance of my young cleaning lady).

First, she helped me carry the panels up to my deck. We then glided and fitted and banged those giant Lego pieces to each other. When the succah didn’t come together as planned, I Googled directions and discovered that oops — those flat metal bars aren’t for decoration, and oh — the bottom support beams need to be set in place before you lock the panels at the top. Got it.

Finally, the walls were up, even if my swing and porch furniture were supporting them. Time to call in reinforcements, so I asked my nephew, and hmm, I guess I should have fit the corner supports before I put together the panels…

But, you know, I don’t want to “skip Succos” anymore.

Once the succah was really up, I started planning for a real Yom Tov. I brought in two tables; with 14 feet inside, we can social-distance. I invited a former ben bayis and his family for a visit. I also ordered a book for Chol Hamoed — I have a binge-reading session scheduled: me and my new book in the succah along with the half-gallon container of chocolate ripple ice cream in my freezer.

This is so unlike any Yom Tov I ever imagined, in so many ways. I know I can’t change the basic picture — no matter how much I’d like to — but I’ve also learned I can control how I deal with it. If you find yourself facing a Yom Tov setup you never envisioned, even a few months ago, don’t make the mistake I almost did and “skip Yom Tov.” There will be moments, many of them, when you’re overpowered by the way you imagined it should be, but expect that and set up the lifesavers — the decorations and the books and the visits, and yes, the ice cream.

Build the succah. And once you build it, take a deep breath, and take the next step to a new kind of simchas Yom Tov this zeman simchaseinu.

 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 830)

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