Right after Herman’s death, I was very disturbed by what I felt was his spirit around me. It was a huge enveloping sensation. I fretted and chided myself. It must be the figment of the imagination of a grieving widow who could not accept the death of her husband. I paced my living room and angrily shouted up into the cathedral ceiling,
“Herman, if you are really there, show me, and in a way that I will know it is you”
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I grew up in England where it was considered extremely impolite to touch someone else’s food. Food sharing was an emphatic no-no.
Then I moved to the United States, but old habits die hard.
My late husband, Herman and I, almost did not survive one of our early dates. He took me out to what he promised would be a real Jewish deli, and where I ordered a Reuben sandwich. It arrived in all its piled high magnificence! Herman looked rather longingly at my sandwich and asked
“Can I have a bite?”
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0f all the endings in life, the most definitive one is death. Or is it? My entire adult life I used to wonder -does death mean, it is all over, the end, or is there something more? Does Heaven exist? I honestly did not know, but I remember very clearly when that all changed. Now I know there is an afterlife. Read more ›
My entire adult life, I sat miserably on the sidelines at all social occasions which involved dancing, thinking that I could not dance. Like millions of others, I have watched “Dancing With The Stars” and have been amazed and inspired that the contestants could become accomplished ballroom dancers so quickly. How I envied them. As for me? I was now too old and without talent. Alas, that could never be me.
Shortly after my late husband, Herman, got terminal brain cancer, we were at a Bar Mitzvah. I was painfully aware that this might be the last time that I might even attempt to dance with him. So I shuffled awkwardly around the dance floor, weeping quietly into his chest, and hoped nobody noticed. I was a basket case. Read more ›
By the time I became a teenager I really disliked my mother. She was very controlling, and I also thought she was a prude.
I spent almost my entire adult life trying not to be her. To make matters worse we even looked like each other and were both redheads. I often joked that I moved 3000 miles and married a Jew to get away from her. I became wildly adventurous, and certainly the black sheep of the family. By way of background, I was brought up as a good Catholic girl, and among other things, a late bloomer where boys were concerned, and quite predictably, my mother was determined to keep it that way. Read more ›
Dancing Brought Healing To Her Life
Written by Elizabeth McCabe
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
With obstacles come opportunities. Pinehills resident Mercia Tapping is living proof of this life lesson. After undergoing personal struggles, her life story became an inspiration to others through her sheer grit and determination.
Mercia shares her story, “A few years ago, I had the idyllic life – at least it was for me. I had a husband whom I loved deeply, I enjoyed good health and I was one of the top 20 woman entrepreneurs in Massachusetts. Over the course of a few short years, I lost it all. My husband got glioblastoma, terminal brain cancer; my CFO committed massive internal financial fraud while my husband was sick; I then got advanced breast cancer and was unable to run my company, so it was eventually sold in a distressed sale. Therefore, the woman who ostensibly had everything suddenly had nothing. Read more ›
When I was a child, I hated my hair. It was very fine and straight, and my mother insisted on cutting short so that it looked like a pudding bowl had been placed over my head. How I envied the other girls with their long hair, their braids, and pigtails. Most of all, I was jealous of those girls with curly hair. I looked like a boy when I wanted to look like a pretty little girl. It is no wonder that I have kept very few photos of my childhood. Read more ›
When you get to be my age, you are less afraid of death, than you are of dying alone. Most of my close family and my husband are now dead, but along the way, I have become practiced at giving loved ones what I call, a “Good Death”.
About ten years ago, one chilly January afternoon, I was sitting in my office with a happy smile on my face, because I was leaving next morning for a trip to the Caribbean.
Then the phone rang. It was my sister, Susan in England,
“Mercia, I am so sorry to call but Dad is dying. He doesn’t have long to live. The hospital have withdrawn all food and water. I felt I should give you a choice about coming now, or waiting until the funeral” Read more ›
In 1995 I was on vacation with my sister Susan in Paris, when I surprised her by declaring that I intended to get married again. My sister looked at me completely astonished, saying
“You? Married? After all these years!”
I had been divorced for 13 years and had no significant relationships the entire time. In fact, I had had over 100 first dates which had gone nowhere. Not exactly a success story. My sister could be forgiven for her skepticism. Then recovering herself from her vote of no confidence, she continued
“How will you find him?”
To which I grandly replied,
“I am a marketing person. You need a lot of leads before you make a sale”.
She shook her head.
Over the next 6 weeks, I joined several dating organizations, I also asked friends to hook me up. I also put a personal ad into Boston magazine, the precursor to online dating. Much to my delight, I got over 60 replies to my personal ad. I soon whittled it down to 4 suitable men – Mr. Friday, Mr. Saturday, Mr. Sunday and Mr. Monday. I was having a great deal of fun and enjoying the attention. Read more ›