how to say goodbye
(happy birthday to you)
5 December 2022
When someone lives to be over 100 years old, you can fool yourself into believing they just might live forever, even though you know there will come a day of reckoning, and you will have to say goodbye.
One week ago today, was that day. The day my children lost their great-grandmother, and the world lost an extraordinary woman.Â
Born in the Bronx in 1919, Ida Muss Bobrow was a matriarch to many, including four children, twelve grandchildren, and too many great-grandchildren to count.
Of the many changes in the world, Grandma Ida was a constant, the one to whom family gathered every Rosh Hashanah to receive the warmth of her smile and begin the new year. As we grew in numbers, her house in Jamaica Estates may have groaned amidst the swell, but never her heart—you always knew there would be a seat for you at the table.
I was blessed in the ways Ida considered me to be one of her granddaughters, not by blood but by marriage, even after the marriage was gone.Â
It could have been different with anyone else, but in 2017 just days after the divorce was finalized, she called to ask, "When are you coming to visit?"
Ida was 98 years old.
Two weeks later, I was on a plane to Florida, wondering what I might find, what would remain after the sacred vows of marriage had been stripped away.Â
Ida and her caregiver, Sattie, met me at the airport, the three of us in tears before exchanging hellos. Then, Grandma extended her arm through the open car window and pressed her hand into mine. Smiling, she said, "I'm so glad you came."
Over the next few days, the two of us reflected upon what happened between myself and her eldest grandson. She spoke her mind, but only once, as was her way. But mostly, we laughed. We ate individually wrapped dark chocolate-covered pretzels while watching countless reruns of Bones. Then, at the end of the visit, we made a promise—to always be in each other's life.
Of course, remaining connected meant learning how to navigate uncharted waters.Â
How would I continue my relationship with a woman who always welcomed me in a family I was no longer welcome?
It wasn't easy, but we managed to stay close through long weekends in Florida and lots of FaceTime. Ultimately, when she became increasingly housebound, I began to visit Grandma on my own, quietly in Queens; she was the last person I saw in 2020 before the world shut down.Â
Aging is an extraordinary process, and it is different than simply getting old because even as her failing body told us otherwise, Ida never seemed to grow old. With each passing year, she had the capacity to hold evermore and with ever greater acceptance.
I had a plane ticket to go to NYC tomorrow. The two of us were scheduled to have one more date, one last dinner together. Although I assumed it would be the final time I would hold her hand, say thank you, and let her know how much she meant, with someone like Ida? You never know…
Sadly, it wasn't meant to be.
Although I may not have believed so at the time, there is a richness in exploring the space between marriage and divorce. It is a deepening of understanding to whom and to what you belong. Ida taught me to it was possible to hold the bitter with the sweet, and of the many ways to know kindness from sorrow.
It was from Ida I learned the gift of unconditional love. She never stopped introducing me as her granddaughter, even when others shook their heads in disbelief.
Sitting in the pew behind the family, I observed myself in the fullness of sadness and gratitude—of what I lost and what I found.
My place was not to be in the front row. In a way, it never was, but I needed to learn who I wasn't to know who I was always meant to be. I couldn't be here if I hadn't been there.
Ida was the glue that made that possible for me and many others to trust and believe in ourselves, and to find our way.
There is something extraordinary about listening to the stories that comprise a life one last time. You hunger for them and cherish their sweetness just like the sugar cookies and Hershey kisses Ida always kept tucked in her freezer.
While many remarked on the towering piles of photo albums in her living room, I personally preferred to linger with the unframed pictures in her bedroom creeping up the edges of the bureau mirror like an unruly, tangled vine. So many photographs wedged together that you could barely see yourself, only how we were each a reflection of the experiences of the other.
After the service, we drove to the cemetery to return her body to the earth, as is the Jewish tradition. The rabbi reminded us, "You do the first turn with the shovel upside down to signify reluctance. Then you turn the shovel right side up the second time to indicate acceptance."Â
Together, we silently filled the grave, the roar of jet engines muffling the first thumps of dirt, rain pouring from above blending between our tears.
Ida would have been 103 on December 1st. Instead of gathering to sing Happy Birthday, we gathered to say goodbye.Â
If we were so sad, it was because we knew what we had lost, but it was because of what she shared, we will go on to delight in the sound of her voice in the refrain she sang to us all, year after year:
May you live a long life
Without worry or strife
May your dreams all come true
Happy Birthday to you
dee licious!
in loving memory of Ida Bobrow December 1, 1919 - November 28, 2022
a time honored tradition returns
January 1 in person at tru yoga rochester, ny
Set Your Intention: Turn the Page
January 1 | $40
3:00 - 4:45 pm
in person at tru yoga, rochester, ny
Begin 2023 in a meaningful practice of restorative yoga, guided meditation and reflective writing.
Together we will gather in community to honor and receive the spaciousness of our whole self and set heartfelt intentions:
breath to pen, mat to page
this workshop is for anyone ready to explore how yoga & writing complement the other to become their own embodied practice.
come dressed in comfortable clothes, bring your mat, a journal & pen
questions? send me an email scholarships available
Sarah has an amazing talent of weaving so many things together and listening. It was a truly inspiring few days together on retreat...I am going to try to write a bit every day ... Jeanne, Philadelphia
upcoming
When Women Were Birds: Writing Your Way Home
Monhegan, ME
September 28 - October 2, 2023
details soon • 2022 highlights here • want to know more? let’s talk
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A stunning tribute!