My Abba Sababa

One morning, just after celebrating 4th of July, in our “Seseame Street”, in our South Tampa neighborhood, in Florida, 2012, we packed our minivan with three boys, our beloved Jessie (may she rest in peace), a baby we just discovered was on her/his way (no clue at that point) and headed to NY city, to catch our flight to the Holy Land, together with many Jewish families who have decided to take the leap and make that move.

On our way there, we would stop in different places, visiting dear friends who became family and down memory lane we went to our final stop, farewelling (or at least what we thought at that time) America and all that it has given us, since I made the leap and moved here, only 21 years old, on July 3rd, 1997.

I had no clue what was growing in my body and as much as I wanted a little girl, I was hoping it was a boy, who I knew my body knows how to process, unlike rejecting a female baby, so painfully (three times) around week 12-13.

I was moving my family to a foreign country who they knew only as visitors being welcomed by a giant Moroccan loving family, the most loving giving Sabba (grandpa) and Savtah (grandma) and my hubby, from a guy who embraced every visit, ready to eat and hike, who will now have to prove his surgical skills in a system so so different. I did not have time to grief the loss of another potential little girl…..little did I know about the giant grief waiting for me.

The universe sure has its way of revealing! Soon after we left dear friends from their cabin in the smoky mountains, sharing so many tears and taking a joint prayer in our last hike, for a safe travel and to forever stay connected, the trip took a sharp turn.

On my way to farewell my brother in Annapolis, we both got the worst phone call I would never forget; “ABBAH (dad) had a stroke and is in the hospital in critical condition……”.

By the time I got to my brother, no celebrating last moments of living in America together were on our minds, but instead, sharing the grief of not being next to our dying father, and having to say goodbye to him over the phone, tuning in to his achy breath, as he too, said his goodbye to us. I had no doubt he told me he loved me and was apologizing for such abrupt exit……

He passed away the next morning and I had to keep the journey to NY with my family, listening to the “Kaddish“ prayer – the Jewish prayer of the mourning, quietly screaming, in a bathroom in ocean city, while my boys enjoyed pools and water slides……..

My dad left me with my little girl….he knew I wanted her so badly, he made the deal of all deals with the heavens!

After raising 15 kids and giving birth to 13, my mom had the first ultrasound experience ever, with me, discovering my little Zohar.

I had previously asked my brother to send me a picture of my dad, from his wedding….the last time I’d give this man a big bear hug. When they called my name for this long ultrasound meet, checking that all is growing well, the doctor knew I did not want to know the gender of this baby, but my mom….oh, she didn’t let go of that poor guy.

In the attempt to relive him from her begging, I agreed to know. The moment I said yes, my dad’s picture popped on my phone- my brother just did what I had asked for….my Abba knew….he wanted to be there with me as the doctor declared, “well, it looks like you have a healthy little girl!”………The smile my dad had in that picture….a knowing smile……

In one room,G-D and his/hers/its mysterious ways were revealed so beautifully:

A mother of 15 got her sign from her late husband that he is there and will remain through this granddaughter….the first ultrasound of her life!

A daughter, fresh out of mourning days, getting her first green light to this darn move to the holy land and her body saying – “we can do a girl”!!!

A little brother who I squeezed into my heart and whispered “now let’s get you pregnant!”, as he and his wife have tried for years by then….. I was going there, almost three years later, getting their first girl out, my little gd daughter, Alma.

And they doctor who couldn’t stop crying…….

My little Zozo has my Abba’s way of loving, forgiving, spreading comfort and joy to everyone around her. She is the gift he left me, as he knew I would be broken…..

My Abbah was my coffee buddy as he’d wake me up at 4 am to study for finals and would make me the best Turkish coffee…..back then I knew I’d love the early mornings…..he would have his his coffee and cigarettes while quietly watching the sky, and I’d be next to him, coffee and books….

My Abbah who knew I was sneaking a cigarettes here and a cigarette there from his pack and never said a thing, beside a smile which projected “so you smoking now…”….

My daughter has my dad in her and her own father is the same!!!!

My hubby, my kids’ father is as soft and loving as my dad was. He is the Yin power both my mom and I needed as we create through Yang, pitta fire.

My hubby is the strongest version of a man who adores a strong woman by his side, never ever feels small or threatened, but honored and supportive.

My hubby, just like my Abbah, loves his coffee and the early hours together.

My abba and my hubby and now my 3 boys, are forever, my favorite men!!!!!

If your father is still around, think about all the little things unique to them and the way they have shaped you who you are!
If the relationship is painful, or even toxic, the more you need to go down to the smallest resolution of what still, was their contribution to who/what you are today.

If they are no longer with you, sit with it, cry, connect to small, simple moments, like coffee and blue sky; being held by them, remembering their smell…..the warm, KNOWING gaze.

Happy Father’s Day to all the men in my sacred circle here and to any man who shows up not to “help” their woman but to engage with parenting for their own good!!!! To forever becoming a role model!