All In The Family
By Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence
I’ve observed more than my fair share of family dynamics over the years—from the one I was born into and that I am so attached to, to the one I was a daughter-in-law in for 13 years, to this Magence clan that I love and am still getting to know.
This past week, as we celebrated the wedding of Jeremy’s niece Alisa, I found myself contemplating what it means to be part of a relatively new family—and what it means to enter one midchapter and already in motion.
In many ways, I’m at a disadvantage. I haven’t shared decades of memories with Jeremy’s siblings. I don’t know the inside jokes, the family stories, or the shorthand that comes with thirty years of shared life. But in other ways, I hold an advantage: the fresh perspective of someone seeing this family from the outside in—noticing things those on the inside might not. Sometimes, I sit quietly at events—with my kids or without—and listen to jokes I don’t quite understand. I smile, even when I don’t get the punchline, and don’t ask for clarification. At the same time Jeremy has taken beautifully and wholeheartedly to my parents and siblings to an easy going and flowing extent.
At times, being with a new family is isolating, like being the only one in the room who missed the joke. It’s not unfamiliar. After all, nothing compares to the loneliness of being a single parent. But, at times that feeling still lingers. Jeremy’s family shows up exactly the way my family did during those most difficult years. Together with the family I grew up in, my new family also remembers our birthdays and anniversaries.
They’re a kooky clan that dress in costume for Thanksgiving. They seem to genuinely like one another, not just love one another. Their shared history of both traumatic times mixed in with the happiest moments of life have resulted in them being as thick as thieves and I love being there to witness the way they feel for one another.
It’s inspiring and it gives me hope that my kids will one day emulate the cousins they grew up with and this model of connection and devotion with their own families. This past Sunday—a fast day—my late husband’s sister suggested organizing a lemonade stand for charity to keep the kids busy. I was on board immediately. Kids love nothing more than pretending they’ve done all the work for a bake sale but in reality, their involvement usually ends after requesting ingredients. Still, I loved the idea of cousins coming together, so I got to work baking. It was as similar and natural to all the time that Rosie spends with my brother Dovi’s daughter Ava and how Gavi loves playing with his son Joey. It was as easy as all the yomim tovim that we spent with my sister Dini and Eliezer and their kids.
When my sister-in-law arrived at my house on Sunday, I realized it had been a long time since she’d been there. For years, I was on their receiving end. His sisters did whatever they could for me to make things easier just as my own siblings did. They certainly couldn’t fix it all, but what they could do they did and spared none of their love, devotion, and time when it came to me and my kids.
Her walking into my house for a casual fun afternoon was a quiet reminder of how much life has changed since Moshe passed. I found myself imagining what that Sunday might have looked like if life had followed a more predictable path—if Moshe were still alive, if our kids saw each other more regularly at Shabbos meals and smachot. But that wasn’t G-d’s plan. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law sat in the kitchen, occasionally checking in to make sure it was okay to linger. Their presence brought a wave of nostalgia—and a tinge of sadness for what used to be. They’ll always be Moshe’s family, and by extension, mine, but the nature of the relationship has shifted. Hosting Sunday Funday for the first time in a long while made me realize something important: although I didn’t arrive at this new life chapter from a place of strength, I’ve found myself on steadier ground.
I’m now in a place where I can host family gatherings—the kind that once belonged to others. For the first time in years, I felt a sense of gratitude for returning to a role I once knew well—welcoming family into my home and feeling completely at ease doing so.
I have a vivid memory from my wedding to Jeremy in my parents’ house in Lawrence three years ago. Moshe’s mother grabbed my hands to dance, and over the music, she looked me in the eyes and said, “I’ll always be your mother-in-law, no matter what happens.” It was raw and real—and a moment I’ll never forget.
Life doesn’t always unfold the way we expect. We all hope for stories with predictable trajectories, ones that mirror the lives we see around us. But when things veer off course, we’re faced with a choice: how to respond to the unplanned. Today, I find myself with not just great and supportive parents and not one but two wonderful mothers-in-law. A whole crew of siblings, siblings-in-law, stepchildren, grandchildren, and even an ex-sister-wife and her fiancé. From time to time I hear my parents asking about their step great grandchildren. It’s not a conventional family tree, but it’s ours. We work with what we have, not what we don’t. And I’m finally able to write from my scars instead of from my wounds.
Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of five, a writer, and a social media influencer.
