Remembering my Mom, on What Would be Her 80th Birthday
The necklaces Mom and I are wearing in this picture were untangled this week, from a plastic bag finally unpacked from my shipment to Israel. It was a project for two people and one that took hours, but the mess of necklaces did indeed come apart, one at a time, with patience, time and care.
Untangling my feelings since Mom's death however, has been much harder.
Ironically, on Erev Yom Kippur, I shed tears for my mother and only my mother - for possibly the very first time since her death.
After lighting Yurtzeit candles for absolutely everybody I could think of - relatives on both my mother's Jewish side and my father's non-Jewish side - relatives of people I know - hostages who were murdered that I wrote about - people murdered on October 7th that I didn't know but who I have written about...I decided to walk to synagogue in Be'ersheva, which is something I have rarely done in Israel.
I had simply hoped to hear Kol Nidre, the beautiful haunting song on the cello. I had my cell phone on for directions to the closest service I could find, which broke the Yom Kippur rule right off the bat, and as soon as I eventually found one, I regretted going. I was extremely uncomfortable and the songs were unrecognizable. I had to cross past the men's side to get to the women's, and I was right away wondering how long I needed to stay to not seem as freaked out as I was.
After about 15 minutes, I did hear the start of "Kol Nidre," and for a moment I felt hopeful, but the song quickly changed into something else, so I gave it a little bit longer, crossed past the men - and made my escape.
I filmed as I walked home - on the dark unfamiliar streets with no cars in sight (and again being the only one with a phone and feeling like a complete and total sinner).
Doing this actually caused me to walk in completely the wrong direction.
When I eventually arrived home, I turned on Kol Nidre on YouTube, a version I had never seen before by Luka Sulic, and I broke down in a way I have done many, many times - but for the first time in a very long time, and only about my mother.
I could feel her presence deeply - and her lack of presence - and I allowed my many questions for her that have burned my soul for more than a decade to take over.
There are very few people I can talk to about Mom, and practically nobody that had true insight into what made her tick - like actual insight - not just praise for what she showed the world and who she portrayed herself to be. She was a million different things, and in many ways a mystery, as we all are with our countless sides, and though she and I struggled for many years and I had reason to be angry at the criticism I endured, she simultaneously shared openly with me about criticism she endured - so I was always able to empathize with her - even as I was getting hurt during the most challenging years of our relationship. However - once I graduated college and she and I went on my first trip abroad together, our relationship began to change. Her adventurous streak and knack for foreign languages was brilliant, and I can remember in vivid detail sitting in a restaurant in Vienna with the rudest blond male waiter imaginable - and how Mom was playful and having a blast over how cruel he was being. She also shocked me with her understanding of the German menus - based on some Yiddish from her Dad - (who knew?!) She then disgustingly became obsessed with - of all things - not only those sausages they sold on the street but ones with cheese in the middle - how Kosher can you get, hmmm?
Kasekrainer!! She was a walking contradiction, and then a contradiction of that contradiction. Her entire identity was Judaism - but she chased my non-Jewish Dad for five years until he married her - and then she was mad at him for not being Jewish. And then she forbade me from chasing men or doing this, that, or the other with men, or anything at all with men, because if I did anything at all with men, they would instantly lose all respect for me as a human being and think I did that with everyone. And this person would think that - and that person would think this. This was a fact - not an opinion - and this - (sorry Mom) - was an enormous problem and my biggest complaint about her, because of course it wasn't true in every scenario, but no amount of therapy came close to cracking this built-in code she implanted inside my brain - which was debilitating. "This time I'm really gonna kick that football," I have thought, a la Charlie Brown, every time I've met someone I have even minor interest in, but then I can never go through with it - so for those who have wondered why I've never gotten married - there is your answer. The ones I like - I freeze with. -- In other news, her life was interesting. She was a cool youngster. Like - very cool. She grew up in Montreal, and was a tom boy who cut classes, built treehouses, wore overalls and climbed up on roofs with hammers and stuff. She ate tar. I love imagining this - (and I don't think she really ate it - I think she chewed it - when they were making the new roads? Something like that - but ISN'T THAT COOL?) A rather horrible but hilarious story is that when she was dating my Dad, he was supposed to help her move to Ottawa for college at Carleton University, but he didn't show up. Worried, she began phoning every hospital she could think of, and then every friend, until finally a woman said - "He is sitting in my living room having a beer with my husband." "He was supposed to drive me and all of my stuff to Ottawa today!" The woman, who ironically is now my father's partner, walked into her living room, stared at my father, and screamed "YOU SHIT!" Meanwhile, my mother, raced to my father's place and let the air out of all of his tires. But my father - completely unfazed - (he lived across the street from a gas station) - shrugged his shoulders, and simply filled them back up! Inhale through the nose.......Exhale through the mouth........ And they lived happily ever after :-)
-- My mother was a FORCE. She literally could do - ANYTHING. And in many ways - she did. I do not know when her energy shifted from being a tom boy and eating tar, to being more materialistic, but I wish that hadn't happened. I do not know where she got her Mother Theresa / Dr. Laura stuff from either - I have tried to find out, as her sister wasn't like that, but this too remains a mystery. The only insightful thing I was ever told about Mom was this one incredibly strange sentence: "Your mother has spent her life apologizing for not being adopted." Yes - you can read that again - it's a very bizarre sentence, and it was said to me by the one cousin I truly bonded with, who would have been an incredible support to me these past 12 years - but very unfortunately, she passed away before my mother did. So, what does that mean? Well - on the one hand - my Mom - who was so terrified of dying young from cancer - ultimately did die young from cancer - at age 67 - (her mother had died of cancer at age 51). But on the other hand - she lived a very long life, if you consider the fact that her parents had been unable to carry a baby to term before my mother's birth. Her parents had suffered seven miscarriages prior to my mother, and so ultimately gave up and adopted a baby - and this baby was my Mom's older sister, Lorna. Once they adopted, I suppose they relaxed, and this was when they got pregnant with my Mom! So, in this sense - she was a miracle baby - who made it to term - and then to age 67. However, the psychology in her household - and my mother told me this - was to not make her adopted sister feel uncomfortable, so I believe what my cousin was saying was that my mother had to work extra hard growing up to get attention and to be noticed, and that this carried her in life - like a "Love me, too!" kind of thing, and this makes sense.
-- When I was a child, she became very involved in est training, which became The Forum, which became The Landmark Forum, and her goal became getting everybody in our lives to do it. It was a course about many things - living the best life you could live - seeing where in your past you made choices that controlled you and letting them go, seeing that life was an empty canvas where you could create and design anything you wanted, etc... I participated as a child in these very demanding courses, and had a way of thinking and seeing the world that no young person could understand or relate to. I learned that nothing was more important in life than keeping your word or having integrity and I have always lived my life that way, trusting that others live that way, too, and so being consistently surprised and disappointed by nearly everyone. These courses began a series of larger-than-life projects for her, from selling Major League baseball tickets to raise money to build a new building for the Suicide Hotline she volunteered at, to holding an auction for my Montessori school to raise money for them. All of this was amazing of course - except that it kept her radar tuned outward - (what does the world need?) and not inward (what do I need? what does my family need?). The courses seemed to demand reflection and inner work, and this was how I always interpreted them, but they seemed to take on a different meaning in our household, where enormous projects were always happening, that caused a lot of running around and, and given our frequent moves, constant school changes, and other things that required attention in the household - the feeling at home was one of chaos, not of calm, and whatever was in focus was not necessarily what should have been. But this was my normal - so it was okay.
--
She had a surprise party for my Dad when he turned 40 - and I was in on this as an 8-year-old.
She put the "real" thermometer in boiling water that morning to get him out of the house - so he took me and my little brother into New York City for the day.
It was an incredible day in New York, with his Sri Lankan co-worker Asanga and his wife Mimi - and we had to decide between seeing Ghostbusters or Gremlins in the theatre (we made the wrong choice and saw stupid Gremlins) - and when we got home - the house was PACKED with people.
This was no ordinary party with only their New Jersey friends. This party had friends flown in from their newlywed years in Bermuda, as well as from the UK, and a freaking belly dancer.
In the video from the party, my dad is standing there with his legs shaking as he enters the house from the garage, in genuine about-to-have-a-heart-attack shock.
I can remember sitting there, my skinny legs dangling from upstairs looking down, serious-as-ever, anxious and quiet, observing it all, having kept the secret as expected, and I can remember the next day, dressing up as said belly dancer.
On his 50th, she got him onto a plane to Bermuda - without him knowing a thing about it. In short - she was always, always, always - doing things for other people - and I think I can safely say in a completely fair and most loving way - in an effort to be seen and to be loved, and I did see her and I did love her. I got her some very special gifts in life, but I can't remember the family even once creating a surprise for her or a party, as she had done for all of us. I hope I am wrong about that, and that we did.
-- I wish so badly that the things she began to see and to learn after she got sick - to focus on getting sleep for example - and to not sweat the small stuff - as in every single tiny little thing - I wish she had seen these things sooner.
I suppose that is "always the way," but because she managed to take a horrific prognosis - it was stage four lung cancer that had already metastasized to the brain from the start - because she managed to take the 2-6 months that the internet stated she had, and stretch that past two years - I truly thought she was going to beat it. I thought the changes she was making in her lifestyle, in her thinking and in her way of viewing life - were keeping her alive. During those 2.5 years, I decided to stay in Vancouver, where I was closer to my brother and his children, as she visited often for long periods of time. I was invited back to Brazil to teach for several months while she was sick, which had been my favorite country and one of my best life experiences, but I immediately rejected this offer, staying close to home in case an emergency with Mom occurred. The only commitments I made during that time were a few theatrical productions, but I told the directors of both "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "I'll Be Back Before Midnight" that my mother had cancer in Florida, and that if anything happened, I would have to travel. By the time I auditioned for a play called "Deathtrap" of all things at the end of 2013, my mother had been living with Stage Four cancer for two years and two months. I honestly thought she might beat it, and that my being in productions was something she looked forward to and part of what was keeping her going. I was initially not cast for a part in this four-person play, and had it stayed that way - I would have gotten to spend time with my mother on the island that she went to for a specific natural treatment she was trying on top of the chemo and radiation. I unfortunately did not know that my mother had been put on Hospice. I learned this only a few years ago from an extended family member who had an "attack of conscience." I learned it eight years after my mother died - that she had made this family member swear "not to tell Melanie." After eight long years for me - this person couldn't live with the guilt. I ended up getting cast in this stupid "Deathtrap" when somebody dropped out, and I took the part, since my boyfriend was in it and since I was unaware that the emergency with my mother that I had been terrified about for two plus years was now in the process of happening. I can clearly remember a pause in my mother's voice when I told her I got the part - and so for the past few years I have finally known why - but she said nothing at the time and I couldn't read her mind. Anyone who knows me as a friend, especially new friends since October 7th, or even the most basic of acquaintances - like the man in the flower shop in Tel Aviv...I walk into his store and he introduces me to everyone in the store as "the girl who only thinks of everyone else..." He met me in November of 2023 when I was the only person who came to Israel, and he saw me as I built my website, and slowly heard my story as he provided me with a bouquet for a good price every Friday. If people know anything about me, it is that I overthink everything in order to not make the wrong decision. It always hurts my heart when the flower man says this, because he is completely right, but this has never been understood about me by those who should know it the most. I prioritized my mother's illness but was unaware about Hospice so accepted the role, and then a few days before her flight to Vancouver to see the play - well - a few days before opening night and a week before her flight to Vancouver - my mother had the absolute emergency in Florida that was going to keep her there until the end. The director of the play, my boyfriend and his mother were all ordering me to fly to Florida - it would have meant another actor would walk onto the stage with a script in their hand on opening night - but none of us cared about that - including the very well-known theatre. I was set to travel and should have - but my mother ordered me not to leave the play. I am someone who has been crippled with indecision since the career one I made at 15 was wrong. I am someone who cannot afford to have any regrets, yet for five long weeks, I was crying in a dressing room, fearing my mother was going to die and I would never see her again because of a stupid play. I made it to Florida before she died, but during the five weeks that I had followed her instructions to stay in an unpaid production, her faculties had been lost. She could no longer reach into the Scrabble bag. Most upsetting was that she had wanted alone time with me to clear up things in our relationship - necessary things that she wanted to address. She told me that she knew she had been hard on me and she apologized to me for the worst thing she had ever said...but she said there was much more that she wanted to talk to me about, but these things would have had to have happened during the months I was in rehearsal - essentially - during the months when she was put on Hospice when everybody knew but me. These conversations between us never happened - nor did a family conversation she told me was crucial. It had been planned for Vancouver when the family was supposed to see my show; she called it an "End of Life" conversation. We were never together as a family again. This has hurt me for her soul - that she had things she was desperate to express before her death, and that she shared that with both me and my brother - how important this "End of Life" conversation was, and that she did not get her wish.
-- For the past three years, I have dedicated my life to families. I found myself after nine long years of isolation - traveling back to Israel immediately after October 7th - to support people who experienced the worst grief imaginable. I have found that I can finally relate - yet only relate - with people who have experienced loss on a scale most can't even imagine. It is trauma-bonding and comes with its own set of problems - fragilities and sensitivities as I and they are essentially living without skin. Our nerves are raw and the slightest touch can cause us to scream and blow up. It is a difficult way to live after so much loss, "officially" labeled as Complex PTSD. I wish my Mom had understood me the way I had worked to understand her. Not telling me the end was near out of a fear I was too emotional or something like that was not the correct decision. It led to regrettable choices that I never would have made had I been working with the facts. I was open with her about things I needed help with for decades. There were and are so many sides to me - just like her - and all of them deserve to be loved and understood - just like hers. Seeing the sensitivity for one another here in Israel, for what each family member needs, after what they have been through, seeing the respect that people have for each within the family unit - it seems so simple and obvious to them - but these seemingly basic things can be harder for other families - they can be completely foreign. I am sure it depends on how the previous generations grew up. My brother once said something rather profound - that our mother didn't have a mother (she died when Mom was 14) and that our father didn't have a father (he died when Dad was 6)...I suppose he was right about that and all that it implies. On a Kibbutz, families grow up not only with generations caring for each other, but with the entire community caring for each other. It is a concept so beautiful, yet so foreign to someone like me. I have been bearing witness to the worst tragedy in modern Israel's history, but also to the love inside these communities in the aftermath - as they rebuild after such a tremendous tragedy and trauma.
The strength and love inside these families - these communities and this country - is very unique. There is a bond here between people that can be felt, a pulsing that is always there, an energy that I suppose comes from what we have endured here these past few years as a society, as a nation and as a people. I wish I could wrap these qualities into a gift box and ship them abroad. Perhaps that is what I have been trying to do.
--
Mom - we struggled, we argued, but once we sat down and talked with that therapist - and only twice - you listened and you heard me.
The shift in our relationship was immediate, and we were on a new road.
I am so sorry it ended less than ten years later.
I am so glad I found Israel on Birthright and that it brought you here for the first time ever, and your many subsequent visits.
Like me, you seemed to be shocked to find an entire country of people with pizazz and sass - outspoken brainiacs who say everything they are thinking and feeling AS LOUDLY AS THEY WANT TO. My goodness it's Planet Mindi! My favorite picture is you and your TANK.
Thank you for finding that apartment for me in Tel Aviv - I can't believe you found it, and I can't believe I said no. I'll never forget the look on the real estate agent's face, looking at me like "Are you an absolute MORON?!" I had the cheapest rental in Israel at the time, and felt it crucial to get the US Immigration thing handled.
I missed you all so much in the US and Canada and was aching so badly to return "home."
Had I taken that offer, I would now at last have everything I need - a home in Israel.
Mom! I started to find some of the film stuff from Vancouver. Entire episodes that I am in, but I remember none of it as I was so sad then and I can't show it to you. I was a nurse on "Untold Stories of the ER" many times and on camera the entire time! I was also featured in a film with GUS from "Breaking Bad!" Did you watch Breaking Bad?
Mom - I have made my first short film. It is so good. You would be so proud of it. It is about a little girl who was a hostage and her wonderful father - and it is about her return to Israel from Gaza and my return to Israel during the most tumultuous time in our history - and in mine. It is about how her father is coping - or trying to cope - after so much loss - since October 7th.
Mom - if you were here, you would have made sure my writings about October 7th reached the entire world. You would have known how to reach the synagogues and the Jewish organizations. You would have known how to raise money. You would have known what to do with this work I have done tirelessly that I feel has gone unseen for the most part. You got me this lifetime Hadassah membership, and I have NO IDEA what to do with it?!?
Mom - I got it all from you - these values to help others - this enormous heart that beats too hard that so many misunderstand - this unrivaled resilience to survive.
Please pray for me that my physical ailments can heal.
Please watch over me here in Israel (and over Israel).
Please take care of all the fallen souls from October 7th, and our fallen soldiers and citizens since.
Please help me find a home here - sustain me at this particularly difficult time.
You have been in my dreams so often lately. Is this you visiting me?
I love you. I miss you. I did my best, and I'm sorry.
Melanie Preston is a Jewish writer who made Aliyah by herself in 2004 to Tel Aviv for five years, left in 2009 and returned immediately following the October 7th attack to write the stories of the hostages and the slaughtered communities in Israel's south. Her first film, "COMING HOME - A Family, A Friend and Learning the South," has been submitted to film festivals all over the world. To support her writing, her work and her new life in Israel, click the donate button or visit her GoFundMe page. Thank you and Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach from the Negev Desert.
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