In 1975, during a night of unusually heavy gunfire (in Lebanon) just inches from your living room window, in a blink of an eye, with your husband by your side, you packed up three little kids, dressed in pajamas, ready for bed and left your home. You never knew then, that when we’d return, our home and everything in it would be nothing more than a pile of ashes.
Having no other choice, you took us and left the past behind. We boarded a plane taking us, “anywhere but here,” was how you remember it—and when it landed you were willing and ready to start our lives all over again.
It’s a story you hardly ever tell, but when I hear it, it always makes me wonder where you and Papi got your strength from, and how you were ever able to overcome the fear of the unknown. And most importantly, I wonder if I would ever have the courage to look the fear of uncertainty in the face and conquer it, the way you two did.
It has been decades since you were tested with that kind of trauma and over time, as things got easier, we have come to forget the impact of our story.
This year, you were handed a new test. In the words of the terrifying voice on the other end of the phone, it was “a very aggressive form of cancer,” and just like the moments before the journey out of Lebanon, so many years ago, you had to take action immediately.
I don’t know why I am surprised but it was with amazing grace that you fought and fought and fought and won this battle. You never hesitated, you never cried and you never asked for pity. This Mother’s Day, I want to scream how proud I am of your fight. How much in awe I am of your bravery, and how envious I am of your resilience.
We learn from the Torah that G-d gives us what we can handle and that everything, even the bad things, happen for a reason. In this case, the reason for your battle is abundantly clear. This past year, I have learned again to appreciate the role you play in the lives of your kids and grandchildren, to learn from your drive to work and succeed that anything is possible, and most importantly to remember the unique story of where we came from and how we got here, and to always find strength in my family.
I am so thankful to have you in my life for many more years. You are such a strong foundation to our family, and the most fun, vibrant and generous grandmother that our kids could ask for. The three little kids in pajamas that you once carried to safety are all grown up now. We survived our own battles of learning new languages, adapting to a new culture, building careers and families for ourselves, all with your story as a model to follow. No matter how grown up we become, how busy our own lives get and how independent we think we are, when we had to consider living without you, it became clear that we were not ready to lose the friend that you have become to us.
Happy Mother’s Day to you, mom, and to all the mothers who look fear in the face, and fight battles, big and small, everyday for the happiness of their families.
With much love and appreciation, Bertha Zeitouny Sabbagh, on behalf of all your children and grandchildren.
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Bertha Sabbagh is a graphic designer. She and her husband Victor are active members of the community along with their beautiful children Linda, Eddie and Zoe.
