It’s the holidays. You probably noticed. Personally, I like regular days and weeks. Holidays tend to build too much expectation, which can lead to disappointment. I know, I know. You like it. You like the traditions. You like the music and the bustle and the hustle and all that, and I’m sorry I have to be the crabby Jewish girl here.
Of course I like holiday parties at my friends’ houses and the way NYC looks in December and I’m happy for everyone who feels cozy and connected to it, but here’s the truth: I didn’t grow up with Christmas and I don’t like the pressure and emphasis on giving and getting, and to gloss away everything else. It’s just a bit … extra. Let’s spread that cheer out, you know? January through April could benefit from a tiny bit of the intensity we bring to December (and June – but I’ve written that blog post before).
I am, however, thinking about gifts, and the forms they take. I’m thinking about 2019 and what it has meant for me as a mother and as a friend. So much has changed since last December, when my friend Heather Tilev got really sick, really quickly, and passed away.
Heather was a part of a group of women I’ve depended on for laughter and love through the daily slog of #momlife for the past 7 years. Our older kids met in elementary school and we all were drawn to each other, as my friend Kerri, says, like magnets. Heather’s loss has been seismic, and has led me to a place of deep contemplation about what it means to be mid-life and unprepared/ready for anything.
Since the day she died in February of 2019, I knew I had to look into the face of loss, so I decided on a season of the podcast devoted to the subject, which I would examine through the lens of motherhood.
I noticed, while booking guests for the Loss Season, that I was drawn to women like myself, who have a need to write through something in order to process it. Back in August, I spoke to Lauren Mechling about her book “How Could She,” and to Dina Bryk Pearl about her book, “Raised.” Their episodes are thoughtful and connected, covering the topics of female friendship, shedding past selves, and becoming the parents we need to be to ourselves. I urge you to go back and listen to them if you missed them. I’m very interested in how we lose ourselves naturally, as in friendships that change and evolve the self, and unnaturally, as a part of a trauma, like with my friend Dina’s story of losing both parents at a vulnerable age. Both women write with exquisite detail about women in their 30’s in New York City, and they are an interesting complement to each other. They are both terrific women and have beautiful styles of expression.
Following Dina’s piece, I settled in with two big projects in my family life. The first was preparing for my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah in early October, and the second was helping her apply to high schools. These were in direct succession, and were the focus of my fall.
Photo by Heather Phelps Lipton
The Bat Mitzvah involved a lot of thought and planning, obviously, but in addition to making sure Zoe was studying her Torah portion and writing her speeches and schlepping her to her lessons, I watched as she solved problems and navigated relationships. It took time and nudging, but I saw her find pride in learning and leadership within her community. Truthfully, the process leading up to the weekend was exhausting, but the event itself was exhilarating. I was so proud of her and of my family. I put my all into making sure she was seeing, really seeing, how lucky and priviliged she is to live where we live, and to have the opportunities and experiences we have. I was also thinking deeply about where we are as a nation and as a Jewish people, when things have been so violent and scary this past year, and how we have to keep vigilant and teach our kids that values that have been passed on to us through generations, and kept Jews vibrant in the face of hatred. Also, I planned a killer party, I have to say, with the help of friends who are designers and photographers and event people, and we drank and danced celebrated life with all of our beloveds. We really took a moment to look around and be present, and it was sweet.
Directly after the Bat Mitzvah, Zoe had to apply to high school for next fall. Which sounds innocuous, but if you live in NYC you know that it is filled with stress, a scarcity mentality and true competition (also, trying to get 13 year olds to do anything is hard – add in tutoring, applications, auditions, tests and essays for specialized school, tours you have to be on lists for, etc) It is the reason people fear New York, and honestly, I get it. Conquering the public school system is impossible, but the experience was also fascinating. I want a kid who can deal with adversity and will be able to compete, because she is smart and fierce but needs to learn how to operate in this world if she wants the good stuff. That doesn’t mean it was easy or fun to navigate, and I would say that those two months of guiding Zoe toward high school was one of the hardest times I’ve had as her parent. But we got through it, and I learned to give her some agency, even though it is hard to let go. Again, loss rears its head – in the form of control.
Meanwhile, I was interviewing the Dumbo Bitches, as we affectionately call ourselves, for the finale of The Loss Season. The Heather episode has taken all these months to make, and it was happening in real time – we were grieving as a group and individually, while all going through high school applications, teenagers, job stuff. I started my interviews the week Heather died, and completed the last one in September. It has been really tough, but I feel like I got somewhere with understanding how people grieve differently, and how our identities and communication styles affect each other. I listened to hours and hours of my dear friends talking about our beloved Heather, remembering her life, and processing her death. I have found this experience very helpful, though of course grief is a never ending road and this is just one stop along the way.
I’m finding myself humming “Seasons of Love,” from Rent this week, a.) because I deeply love that earnest show, and b.) because that song always resonates around these holidays. Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure a year? There are so many ways to do so. Mark it how you need. Wrap your gifts, take a video your kids holiday show you’ll never watch again, and cuddle with your loved ones. With this season of loss finale, I take off my curmudgeon hat, pluck the gift of friendship from the pile next to the menorah, and share it with you. I hope you like meeting my girls and hearing them tell you about Heather, who was a MILK, and most likely, an angel. Happy Holidays. Xoxoxo