By Malkie Gordon Hirsch
I’m sitting at the most boring basketball game I’ve ever attended, and by that, I mean it’s roughly the second game I’ve ever been to.
I keep sneaking peeks of my boys who are sporting huge smiles as we sit in what I believe is considered the nosebleed section of the basketball arena.
Behind me are two rows. In front of me? Around 1,000.
You may wonder how it was possible to avoid these games growing up with four brothers, and while I might have technically been to more than two of these, I’ve probably blocked them out of my consciousness because of how boring they were.
I stand up for a second and then sit back down quickly because it’s akin to being at the top of a 90-degree angle and I’m quickly developing a fear of heights from looking down at the throngs of tiny ant-like people sitting in what must be way more expensive seats a few miles down from our seats.
I whisper to my son, genuinely unsure whether this is considered fun for a boy of his or his brothers’ ages.
He confirms in the affirmative and with that, I open my notes app.
I figured this was the best time to start writing the article I didn’t think I’d submit this week, the vacation week for frum schools generally referred to as “yeshiva week.”
The week that causes parents the world over to wake from their sleep in a cold sweat, wondering what they’ll do with their kids at home for 10 days straight.
The week many parents start planning way in advance.
The week when if you don’t plan some activities for your kids, you fear you might not survive.
Don’t get me wrong. There were many years in the early child-rearing trenches of raising my kids that I simply did not have the energy to pack up our entire household (only to be told at the airport that our luggage was severely overweight) and juggle entertaining them in a hotel room several hours from home for days on end.
I’d hear about the various destinations people were planning to visit over winter break, and instead of feeling envious, I felt anxious for them.
In those early years, I’d take the kids to Target to choose a toy, to an indoor trampoline park, and to pizza—and they were thrilled. It was fun for them and left me feeling like a rock star, that I could show them a good time doing simple activities.
As the boys got older, their tastes evolved and they became more adventurous. I still believe in teaching my kids to appreciate the simple pleasures of local outings and pizza, but we were fortunate to be able to give them the gift of travel as well.
We embarked on trips to different destinations, and though it was a lot of work getting there, it made me happy being able to provide my kids with different experiences on which they could look back later in life and appreciate.
I’d tell Moshe that we should do this to make memories as a family. To have these trips to reminisce about, to laugh about the good times.
The good times I was afraid were over when he died.
I recall thinking how thankful I was that we enjoyed a great trip to Puerto Rico shortly before his passing. How, at the very least, my kids had that chance to spend days and nights spending quality time with their father, not knowing at the time that their bonding would end very suddenly a couple of months after that last winter break trip with him.
It’s what you do sometimes to make things feel better. You grab ahold of anything to make the pain hurt less.
So being thankful for small things you now understand aren’t a guarantee makes the experience sweeter and more special, despite the hard times that followed.
This is our third winter break without him here, and although we’ve moved forward in our lives, living day to day, attending school and going on winter breaks to different destinations, while his physical presence is no longer here with us, his spirit is all the time.
The open wound of his loss heals with every new memory we experience without him here, but the scar remains and will never fully fade. I wouldn’t want it to.
I feel strength with every new thing I can do with my kids to show them that just because we suffer through the loss of loved ones does not mean we stop living or experiencing the beauty that G-d has generously provided us on this Earth.
Our trip this year was spent in Arizona with neighbors who are like family. They know my strengths as well as they know my weaknesses, so while they planned itineraries, I was in charge of feeding everyone. We worked as a team, and I was able to spend the holiday with friends and show my kids a trip they’ll never forget, from hot-air ballooning to jeeping in the desert. From trekking to the Grand Canyon to receiving a marriage proposal there (yes, you read that correctly—a wonderful man proposed to me), I show my kids that sometimes life throws you curveballs and it’s all about how you react.
I realize it’s a tease to publish a whole piece about winter break, and just throw in a wimpy half-sentence referencing my engagement, but this week we’re processing and celebrating that in real life. I’ll share more about that with you soon! At this point, I just wanted to let you know. You’ve cried with me, so I wanted you to be able to rejoice with me, too.
For now, I just wanted to reflect on what we’ve learned, how we’ve grown; it’s not only about what happens to us in life as much as how we respond to it.
Malkie Gordon Hirsch is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of 5, a writer, a social media influencer, veteran real estate agent, and runs a patisserie in Woodmere.
