Exactly two weeks ago, while 30,000 feet in the sky, my brother posted the podcast “Stories of Hope” with Tzipora Grodko that Jeremy and I were invited to.
After many months of deliberation the previous week, we finally decided to accept the offer to be guests on this podcast.
Instead of the constant “what ifs” surrounding all decisions about unfamiliar or uncomfortable things, I decided to just go for it and accept the challenge.
I had been on many podcasts before. But none with Jeremy and none speaking about our marriage and both the challenges and wonderful parts of a beautiful second chapter in life, with all the problem-solving and blending that’s specific to our family, and tricky issues that inevitably arise in a relationship that starts in midlife, such as ours.
I like to compare remarriage to opening a book in the middle without reading the first few chapters. There’s a lot to learn as you go, with information that’s filled in as you create a new life together. I thought I knew how popular this podcast was before being interviewed, but I can safely say that I had absolutely no clue about the immense popularity and reach this show has garnered.
Unfortunately, in this day and age of many alternate paths that life takes, the stories of many couples don’t end with a “happily ever after.” Sometimes, or rather many times, there is divorce, separation, or tragic circumstances that end in widowhood. Or there are men and women who are chozer b’teshuvah later in life, or those who don’t find their partner until much later, and more ways of seeking out a life partner than there are math equations.
Ultimately, the deciding factor in my choosing to be on the podcast was to provide chizuk for people who are currently in the same position I was not too long ago. It was my message of encouragement to all the people silently suffering that if they keep believing, it’s possible to find a new life partner in the blink of an eye, on a day when you least expect it.
I spent years wondering how it would look for me. Still, I always believed it would happen, even if I couldn’t imagine something as miraculous as a person dropping out of the sky (or Canada) into my JWed App and loving the idea that I had a busy life with five kids to raise.
Tzipora asked the questions and we took turns answering in our usual candid way. We did not shy away from topics that surround us, such as finding ourselves suddenly single in our 40s and 50s. She asked about the day of Moshe’s petirah and the details of that day forever seared in my mind.
I talked about looking for Heinz chili sauce for dinner that night and the annoyance of the shelves being switched around due to the imminent arrival of Pesach. I hold onto the memories I have of that day because it was the last time I would ever own that innocence, the life I remembered having when I just assumed that we would all be back home that night and have countless hours ahead to do the same things we’d done until then: spending time together, eating dinner, raising a family, enjoying the partnership we had both committed to 13 years prior.
Shortly after my search for that elusive ingredient, one phone call would forever change my life. I didn’t expect to get emotional as I discussed the events of that day, and there’s comfort in knowing that the emotions that had worked overtime in my life are still in working order. I don’t know if the recounting of details brings me to tears or the knowledge that I would be forced to go on a journey with all its trials and tribulations in the aftermath of that terrible loss.
We discussed loss, including all unplanned endings, not just limited to widowhood. Divorce and any breakup are losses that need time to properly mourn and process. The distinction with a sudden loss, such as I experienced, is an important one, and one I don’t think many people understand or appreciate. It’s a double-edged sword. The suddenness of what happened paired with the finality of the loss is a shock to the system that takes a while to work through.
We delved into the many layers of what it means to find oneself suddenly single at 38, with five young kids watching my every move and me trying to convince them (and myself) that everything would be okay.
We talked about grief and how important it is to be there for the ones needing support by just holding their pain with them and validating this life change, and not tying it up in a pretty bow that people are apt to do because raw feelings scare them.
Sometimes, it’s not okay, and it’s also okay to say that. It does more for them than saying that things will improve, especially when there’s no real timeline for when that will occur.
Holding space for one’s feelings, fears, and discomfort are far more beneficial than remarking on someone’s strength. It’s not strength, but rather survival.
She asked questions about when I knew I wanted to get remarried (immediately) and my game plan for doing so (Hashem).
We talked about dating as a whole family, and it’s something only couples embarking on a relationship the second time around can understand—the time that has to be invested in getting to know each other’s families and blending them in a way they’re comfortable with.
In our case, Jeremy’s older kids, who are married with their own children, made it very different from the more common brand of blending, with all the kids learning to live under one roof. While it’s trickier for the kids to get to know each other since we don’t live in the same country, we do things like bringing the kids to Israel so they can spend time together and establish a relationship and lay the groundwork for our family 2.0.
We spoke about the roles of a stepparent, and knowing not to overstep and when to be involved and when not to is essential too. The last part of the podcast was my favorite because it addressed a subject that has been met with much cynicism. We spoke about setting intentions, like a personal “ani maamin” that we say daily at the end of davening.
I spoke about starting from the ground up before meeting anyone, and although I found it hard to believe it would happen to me, I wrote my own wish list and read it back every morning. I didn’t wait until these events were my current reality. Instead, I made it a part of my life by giving the words their own life.
The phrase “abracadabra” has always been cloaked in mystery and magic. In modern times, it is chanted by a man pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
But really, abracadabra means, “I create the words that I speak,” from “avra” or I bring forth, and “ki dabra” the words I speak.
Setting intentions is a powerful part of making dreams a reality.
When I started from scratch, before I could ever imagine being lucky enough to be gifted a second chance, I figured there wasn’t much to lose by trying it.
And I don’t think it was just that—there was the follow-through of the cringe-worthy practice of vulnerability, putting myself out there and dating, even when the outcomes seemed bleak and hopeless. The intentions opened a small window of hope, keeping me wondering and wishing for what had happened.
Our story has a bittersweet ending, but one I wouldn’t want to change.
The podcast response has been unlike anything I’ve experienced thus far.
Jeremy and I heard from people we haven’t seen in years, and I had a good laugh when we were also stopped in the shuk in Israel.
I received several messages thanking me for the honest and brave way we spoke, and countless more messages telling me how helpful it has been for people who are going through similar circumstances and feel misunderstood, and also for the support people who now understand better what their loved ones are going through.
For me, a sense of gratitude lies in this message of hope for those who need to hear a story not colored within the lines, but something with a winding road that ultimately can still lead to happiness.
Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of 5, a writer, and a social media influencer.
