What About the Kids?
Estimated reading time: 12 minutes, 21 seconds
First Holidays
“What are you doing sitting in front of the Christmas tree sans clothes with a ribbon on your head,” I asked Jan? We were standing in the smaller windowless room in our railroad flat. “Gift giving is over for this year,” I commented as I looked at my beautiful wife.
“One last gift,” she pleaded? “I did not know that the most important gifts are saved until morning and not opened on Christmas Eve.”
I shook my head and helped her to her feet.
“You are my wife and the love of my life, but you are not a gift.”
I hugged her as tightly as I felt was prudent.
“Let’s have breakfast,” I said after kissing her lips.
“Next year, I will remember to save a gift for the morning for you. I never celebrated Christmas, so you should have told me the rules.”
I nodded my head affirmatively as we walked to the kitchen. I was also thrilled I had been able to surprise her this morning with the watch she had wanted.
We had married in August and despite her parents not attending the wedding and no longer speaking to Jan, we were happy to be husband and wife.
“I should have told you about my family’s traditions, but I wanted to surprise you with the watch.”
Jan smiled at me and then looked at the watch on her wrist.
Although Jan was the only one in our household with a credit card, I was the only one with a job, albeit a part-time position.
“How were you able to buy the watch? It must have been expensive.”
“A man never reveals his gift buying secrets.”
The Final Rabbi Interview
“Can I ask you a question?” The 114 NJ Transit bus was making its way through Union. I knew we would be getting off soon to walk to her parent’s house. If I was going to ask the question that burned inside me, it was now or never.
“Yes, my love. Anything you want to ask me, I will answer.”
I took a deep breath and formulated the question in a way that would not seem inflammatory or cause her discomfort.
“What options do we have to get married if this Rabbi says no?”
“Well, we will keep looking until we find someone,” Jan proclaimed.
“Honey, this will be the fifth one, and he is just as likely to say no. Plus, it is April. We are running out of time for an August wedding.”
“We will find someone to marry us.”
“Not if we keep saying we will not promise to raise our children Jewish.”
Even though I had deleted the part that questioned whether she was trying to ensure we could not be married, the question chilled the conversation as if someone had tossed a wet blanket over us.
I leaned over her to pull the cord to announce our stop. As I returned to my seat to stand up, I kissed her lips.
“I love you,” I said. “I am OK agreeing to raise our children as Jews.”
“I would be happy if we did that,” Jan said, “but not if the Rabbi requires us to make that decision. It should be what we decide together.”
We walked to her parent’s house in silence. I knew we would meet the firth rabbi and end up with a fifth negative response!
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
