The blaring Israeli music with the distinct “workout beat” piqued my curiosity. I peered inside the room off the lobby of the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Stamford, Connecticut, last month, and saw women of all ages doing something I had never seen before: “kangoo dancing.” Wearing elevated jump shoes on springs that allowed them to “pogo” to the wild beat, they seemed to be having the time of their life as they danced in pairs and solo. You would never guess that the circumstance that brought them together was the tragic loss of their husbands.
The Shabbaton was a joint project of Samchainu, a support organization for widows founded over 11 years ago by Breindy Halberstam and Shani Stefansky Waldman, and Nagilla, a Lakewood-based support group for widows. In Hebrew, samchainu means “our joy,” and while watching the women dance, smiling ear to ear, it struck me how apropos the name is.
The theme of the Shabbaton was “Journeys” an appropriate one since it took place on parshas Bamidbar. Over 500 participants traveled from across the United States and Canada and from as far away as Antwerp to be there. They are among over 2,000 members of the organization, who span in age from their twenties to their nineties. They come from modern Orthodox, Litvishe, and chasidishe hashkafos. And they have been widowed from mere weeks to many decades.
Between the various activities, workshops, and sessions – not to mention the delightful meals and around-the-clock tea room! – I managed to speak to numerous fellow widows. They were forthcoming in sharing some intimate details of their loss and offering their personal coping tips if it meant helping others. By the end of the weekend, it was obvious that our joy went beyond kangoo dancing. Rather, we felt the more lasting joy of bonding with our Samchainu “sisters.”
It Takes One to Know One
Miriam Kahan, 63, of Passaic, New Jersey, has gone to quite a few Samchainu events since her husband passed away 19 years ago. “You feel very validated for whatever feelings you have because there are so many other people like you.” shares Miriam. “You feel very comforted; it is easier to make friends because you have that commonality already. And you feel like you can give chizuk (encouragement) to some of the younger women who lost their husbands a year or two after they got married; some even had a baby after their husband died. You come home on a high.”
Miriam’s children were 9, 12, and 15, when she became an almana (widow), and she had a very unique way of helping herself cope. “I thought about my father-in-law and how he got through the Holocaust,” recalls Miriam. “How did those people survive after seeing their entire families destroyed before them? I asked Hashem to help me put one foot in front of the other. You don’t have to feel it, you just do it, and, hopefully, the feeling will follow. I remember being very robotic about it, thinking, ‘If the Holocaust survivors can do it, I can do it!’”
Yehudis Rubinfeld of Williamsburg, whose husband passed away 10 years ago, in his thirties, concurs regarding Miriam about the benefits of getting together with fellow almanos. “You feel like you’re in the same boat. I get chizuk from the Samchainu Shabbaton. You have to learn to cope; everyone has different ways. For me, it helps to eat a piece of chocolate that lasts for a few hours; then I take another piece. Hearing shiurim on the phone and talking to people also help.”
Yehudis’ neighbor, Esther Schlesinger, who lost her husband 9 years ago, says, “The only way to pull through is thinking positive, being besimcha (happy), and knowing that everything is from Hashem. You become very, very close to Hashem, and you see tons of siyata deshmaya (heavenly help) and tons of hashgacha pratis (divine providence). It’s amazing. How do I cope? I talk to Hashem.”
Another woman from Brooklyn, who preferred to remain anonymous, told me that her husband passed away three years ago: “When you come here, no one is feeling sorry for you, because they understand. They’re not giving you pity; they’re empathizing because they understand. That’s really important because I find that I can’t necessarily do that with friends who still have their husbands; I don’t want their pity, and I don’t want to seem like I’m so vulnerable.”
Put on a Happy Face
Ruthie Huss of Flatbush has been widowed for four years. Her husband passed away suddenly, at the age of 62, while in an induced coma for two-and-a-half years from which he never woke up. “I never cry in front of my children; I never cry in front of my friends,” says Ruthie. “I have a happy face around everyone. This way, everyone wants to be with me. To cry in front of anyone is no use. They’re not feeling my pain. I’m the one who feels the pain, but I’m only feeling it within my own four walls.
“The minute you get up from shiva, it’s over,” Ruthie continues. “Get yourself together and go out into the world and say, ‘Hashem, thank you for taking care of me. I am thankful that I have my children, that I have what to do, and that I love what I do. We all have sad things that we think about, but we have to rise above it. When I leave the Samchainu Shabbaton, I say, ‘Thank you, Hashem, that I married off my children, that I liked my husband, and that I’m a great-grandmother. Others here have four-year-old babies, and they have to do it on their own! I look up to them. What is the big deal about me? They give me chizuk!”
Busy, Busy, Busy
Aviva Gordon, who has been widowed three-and-a-half years, traveled from Oak Park, Michigan, to attend her second Shabbaton. She told me that when her husband died, it felt like she was flying an airplane without a wing.
“It took me three full years to get grounded enough to be comfortable in a public place,” notes Aviva, who finally mustered up the courage to come to the annual Shabbaton after a couple years. “I’m flying a different plane now. I think Hashem has picked up the other wing and has leveled it for me in many, many, many ways.”
What does Aviva advise for those facing the challenges of widowhood? “I think it depends on your personal language,” Aviva says. “I’ve gone into complete Type A mode, and I don’t sit still; I’m afraid to sit still. I was like that before, but now it’s 10 times more. I’ve earned two master’s degrees, and I’m working on my doctorate in Instructional Design. I cope by being crazy busy and being very proactive. I do all kinds of chesed activities in the community. That’s my language.”
Aviva adds, “I think the more I’m alone, the harder it gets with my married friends. While they are the best – really loving and thoughtful – they treat me differently. They don’t mean to, and they don’t think they do, but they do.”
Chaya Brody, a native of Yerushalayim who now lives in Boro Park and has been widowed 17 years, also copes by keeping herself very busy. She enjoys going out and meeting friends and aspires to live up to the ideal of ivdu es Hashem besimcha – serving Hashem with joy. “Hashem is closer to the almanos,” feels Chaya. “The main thing is to keep busy all the time; not to think about myself. I have to think about others and how to help them.”
Time Heals
It was the third Samchainu Shabbaton for Baltimorean Elaine Brown, who was widowed over 20 years ago, at the age of 52. “It’s fun,” says Elaine. “You meet a lot of people, and I always get chizuk from the wonderful speakers. When I was first asked to join, I hesitated because I didn’t know what they were going to do for me, but they do give chizuk – and you always need chizuk.”
When Elaine’s husband died, she had two daughters at home. Coping, she says, depends on the circumstances. “It’s hard in the beginning, and it’s nice when you have children in town; I don’t,” says Elaine. “It’s a process; you have to heal. After my youngest daughter got married, it took me a while to get comfortable sleeping at home alone on Shabbos night. I often eat out on Shabbos at family and friends’ houses. Now I feel very comfortable, even eating alone on Friday night. Hashem helped me with everything from the very beginning, and Hashem continues to help me. I see the siyata deshmaya in every step I take.”
Baltimorean Rivka Leah Goldman noted how the weekend was incredibly multifaceted – intellectually, socially, and activity-wise – and had something to offer people with different interests. She talked about how uplifted she felt to hear speakers, such as Rabbi Yaakov Bender, Rabbi Paysach Krohn, and Bayla Stein, all of whom had substance and style.
“I was so inspired by the weekend,” Rebbetzin Goldman shared, “hearing all the divrei Torah and seeing how women of all types and hashkafos (religious outlooks) were being mechazek (encouraging) each other, which was beautiful. Each of us is on her own individual journey, yet, collectively, we are on a very similar journey.
“When some of the women were telling their stories that were so fresh for them, it made me think back to over 20 years ago, when my husband was niftar, and how it was for me,” continues Rebbetzin Goldman. “They made me realize, ‘Wow, I did it! Somehow, I did it!’ I wanted to tell them, ‘It is hard, but look at me. You will get there, too!”
Worth the Trip
Channa Weichselbaum, a panelist for the Shabbaton’s workshop, “Navigating Widowhood in the First Five Years,” is a UK native who lives in Antwerp, Belgium. It was her fourth Shabbaton, which she attended thanks to Chai Lifeline. The organization has been there for Channa and her family from “day one.” “Samchainu is amazing. I accepted help from Chai Lifeline and friends,” notes Channa, who is also extremely grateful to her parents, sister, and close family friends.
When Channa’s husband passed away suddenly, over five years ago, she had two children and was pregnant with their third. Today, her children are 11, 9, and 5 1/2.
“The first year I came, when I went to the motzei Shabbos concert, I was standing in the back and got very emotional,” reminisces Channa. “I remember thinking, with all these ladies here – young, old, all different backgrounds – we can allow ourselves to be happy and sing and dance. Now, I join in, although I still get emotional. I find it hard to go to a wedding, for example, because it brings back too many memories for me, for so many different reasons, and here we are all the same. We can share, we can talk, we can cry together,” continues Channa. “We can hear each other’s challenges and work through them, and no one’s judgmental of what you do or how you do it. We’re here to support each other. I find this is where we can be honest with each other; we’re in the same situation. When I go home, I find I’ve got extra fuel to give to the kids.”
Channa notes that she benefited from speaking to other women at the Shabbaton and hearing Rabbi Yaakov Bender and Rabbi Nosson Muller, in particular, who were on the chinuch (education) panel. What does she advise fellow almanos?
“Be very open with the kids; nothing is taboo. They can always ask questions; I don’t always have the answers. That’s when I ask Chai Lifeline, a therapist, or other professionals who can help. There’s nothing like this in Europe – maybe one day. It’s my vision.
“When outsiders give you advice, in all honesty, it is hard to accept because they’re not in your shoes,” continues Channa. “When your good friends try to advise you, but you feel you know what is right for you and your kids, acknowledge what they are saying, and then say, ‘I hear what you are saying, but I think, right now, where I am with my kids, I have to take such and such a stand.’”
In conclusion, Channa shares, “I am very grateful to all the organizers of Samchainu; they put every detail into the Shabbaton. Sometimes you are in such a dark place, and you can’t see outside your bubble because something happened that day or something triggered a certain memory and you get down – but, thinking of the other ladies here helps you get up and see the full picture.”
All Aboard for Chizuk
On the train, on the way back from the Shabbaton, I had a chance to speak to some of those who attended from Baltimore and Silver Spring.
Zelda Baskin told me that the first time she went to the Samchainu Shabbaton, she was overcome by seeing so many hundreds of women who, like her, were widowed. “For a moment, it depressed me, until I said to myself, ‘Look, we’re giving each other chizuk; we’re going to make this good,’ recalls Zelda. “We’re going to turn it around, and we’re going to continue with the hashkafos that our husbands had and try to encourage our children. It was just good to meet people from all walks of life and to give each other chizuk. It was unbelievable. We have so much to thank the people who run Samchainu for putting so much effort into it.”
For Zipporah Freedman, who has been widowed less than a year, it was her first Samchainu Shabbaton. “People asked me, ‘What are you going to do at a widow’s conference? Who goes to it?’ They found it incredible that there were women there who have been widows for 10, 20, and 30 years. And, what people don’t realize is that the many challenges of widowhood don’t go away as time passes. Some challenges obviously do – you get used to it – but there are still so many painful situations in life and so many difficulties in life that widows face, day after day, and we all need the chizuk. It’s amazing to spend time with so many wonderful people who are dealing with or who have overcome some of the challenges. They never lose the fact that they are widows and they are very, very sad, but I think that is really an important part of this. The speakers were all in awe of many of our coping skills.”
Sue Dickstein, of the Woodside neighborhood of Silver Spring, has been widowed for six years. She adds, “The speeches and the workshops were truly inspiring; I was able to gain great chizuk, and it strengthened my emuna in Hashem. I have more appreciation and hakaras hatov (appreciation) for all the blessings in my life, and I try to not focus on what is missing. The theme of the weekend was Journeys, and life is a journey with many stations and numerous highs and lows along the road. Certainly, it is a challenge, but I can tell you from personal experience that, baruch Hashem, over time, the pain eases, and I am able to continue on life’s journey with happiness and simcha.”
One Marylander, who wished to remain anonymous, concluded: “I honestly feel like Samchainu gave me back my chiyus – the simchas hachayim (happiness) that I had before my husband passed away. If you look down the road and see where other people are holding – that they are happy, successful, put-together, with friendships – it gives you chizuk. Going to a motzei Shabbos malava malka and watching a room of over 500 almanos singing and dancing together, also gives me the chizuk I need to take me through so much of the year, through my ups and downs. I came back as a better, stronger person to forge ahead in my life with friendships that maintain that strength throughout the year. I really don’t know where I would be without Samchainu!”
