I found out that my father had died by listening to Mom’s side of a phone call. It took a while for me to figure out that she was talking to my brother, and then even longer to figure out that he was telling her my father had died. I had to wait until the call was over to get the details – that my father had been in and out of nursing homes and hospitals for the past three years (which we sort of knew, from clues but not from direct information), that he didn’t have dementia (which is what Mom had assumed), and that there was drama around when and where the funeral would take place.
I wrote to four people after I found out – two good friends, my therapist, and my rabbi. And my rabbi rushed out of a committee meeting (reluctantly?) to call me and see what I might need from him. He already knew the backstory, about the sexual abuse and the estrangement (I hadn’t seen my father in 23 years), and he said something that really stuck with me. He said that the commandment to Honor your father and mother is often misinterpreted. The word in Hebrew is Kaved, which actually means weight or weigh, not respect or honor. It means that you should weigh the role of your parents in your life when you decide what you owe them in return; you are not required to blindly honor or respect a parent simply because they are your parent, but because they acted as a parent should and raised you with love and respect and guided and protected you. The commandment to Honor your father and mother is not meant to be a get out of jail free card for any parent who abuses or neglects their children.
I am not orthodox, like my brother and his family, and I don’t believe that my rabbi is the final word on what I can and can’t do as a Jewish woman, but it helped to have validation and support, both from a person I trust and from the tradition of my ancestors.
I made sure to tell my rabbi not to put out an announcement that my father had died or to add my father’s name to the list for the Mourner’s Kaddish at our synagogue at Friday night services. I didn’t want to receive messages from people who care about me but don’t know my situation, telling me that they are sorry for my loss and may my father’s memory be a blessing. It isn’t a blessing. He wasn’t a blessing in my life.
Jewish funerals are required to take place as soon as possible after the death, but I did not go (though Mom watched it on Zoom to support my brother and his children). And I didn’t go to sit Shiva at my brother’s house, though Mom went to visit and to offer support, avoiding discussions about what did and did not happen in the past.
I stayed home and sought comfort from my friends and my dogs and my therapist, but I was jealous of my brother’s ability to mourn our father, and all of the Jewish rituals that would support him through that process. I found myself feeling jealous of anyone who could find comfort in hearing their lost loved one’s name read out each week before the Mourner’s Kaddish, or who found comfort in saying the Mourner’s Kaddish and praising God in the memory of their lost loved one. I’m jealous of people for whom the traditional rituals work – like giving nostalgic eulogies and having friends and family over to reminisce and tell stories and share food for a week. Those mourning rituals are so beautiful and powerful, but only when thinking about the lost loved one is a comfort.
My situation doesn’t fit into the traditional framework. My father sexually abused me, and others. He was a pedophile and a narcissist and a manipulator, and he denied what he’d done and denied the significance of the things he couldn’t dispute having done, and never made any attempt to make amends. If anything, he continued to try to convince important people in my life that I was lying and he was a victim. The fact is, I still live in a world that doesn’t want to reckon with the reality that abuse and neglect are everywhere, and that they destroy lives every day.
This was brought home to me, vividly, that night, when, after writing my emails and texts and making my phone calls, I tried to distract myself with an episode of New Amsterdam on NBC. It’s a hospital show with an idealistic bent, often too simplistic, but still hopeful about making the world a better place. It’s not my favorite show, but I watch it regularly and often find it comforting and/or interesting. But for whatever reason, that night, out of nowhere, the writers chose to go down a rabbit hole about Recovered Memories.
Recovered Memories is a somewhat generic term that people often use to describe traumatic memories that have been forgotten at some point and then remembered later. A lot of how you define the term Recovered Memories depends on what your intentions are: if you want to debunk the idea that it’s even possible for memories to return after a period of forgetting, you will probably define Recovered Memories as wholly forgotten and then remembered only with the help of a therapist or a drug; if you believe that trauma can cause memories to fragment or be blocked for some period of time, you’ll probably define Recovered Memories more generally, as partial forgetting and partial remembering over time, often triggered by events in the present that remind you of the past trauma (like your own child reaching the age you were at when you were abused).
On this episode of New Amsterdam, the writers decided to take the loveable psychiatrist on the show, who is more often than not empathetic and kind, and have him testify in court that all Recovered Memories, of any kind, are unreliable. They even had him quote a study about The Shopping Mall Experiment, where the researchers said they were able to “implant” memories in susceptible adults of having been lost in a mall in childhood. The study has been debunked for any number of reasons, but the biggest reason is that traumatic memory and “normal” memory are not the same, and while being lost in a mall might be scary, it would not qualify as a traumatic memory unless something traumatic happened while you were lost.
But still, I wanted to believe that the writers on the show were going to handle the issue sensitively, and in the next scene they gave me hope when the psychiatrist’s female colleague confronted him with her own recovered memory (though not of abuse), and with the terrible impact his testimony would have on millions of women and children who had been abused and tried to testify to that in court. But then the psychiatrist doubled down on his belief that not only Recovered Memories, but ALL memories, are unreliable. He went on to specifically attack the legitimacy of his female colleague’s memories, by researching the probable season and location where the memory would have taken place, disputing her memories of the weather on that day in order to prove to her that it could not have happened the way she remembered it. He was relentless and wildly inappropriate, and the writers gave no explanation for why he would feel so strongly about this particular issue or why he would be willing to be so cruel to his friend.
By the end of the episode it seemed to me that the writers’ intention was to use this whole storyline as a way to question the female colleague’s memories of how her father had left her when she was little, so she could reassess her feelings towards her still living mother and therefore change her plans to move to London, which threatened the status quo at the hospital; but they could have found hundreds of other ways to change her mind without invalidating millions of people.
I was in shock. The violence of the psychiatrist’s attack on his friend seemed to come out of nowhere, and the female colleague’s willingness to forgive him right away was out of character and bizarre. But more than that, the way the writers were misrepresenting the research was horrifying, especially because it is well known in the field that traumatic memories often have missing or distorted nonessential details, like the time of day, or the weather, or the clothes you were wearing, and those mistaken details have no bearing on whether or not the crux of the memory is true.
The emotions I couldn’t produce in response to the news of my father’s death came roaring up as I watched this show and felt invalidated and manipulated all over again. You can’t prove it and therefore it didn’t happen. You have no pictures and I don’t want to believe you and therefore it didn’t happen. Your memories, your symptoms, your feelings, are nothing in the face of what I want to believe.
But I’ve done the reading that the writers on New Amsterdam clearly did not bother to do, and I’ve done the listening, to many people who have been abused, and I know that the brain often tries to protect us from knowing things we are not ready to deal with. I just felt so let down that a show that had seemed thoughtful and kind was no longer trustworthy.
I am still processing my father’s death, and trying to figure out how it changes things, if it changes things. I am safer now than I was as a child. I am loved and supported and listened to and believed; and I cherish the people who have brought me comfort and made my world a better place. But the mourning process is still ongoing, for the loss of the childhood and the father I could have had, and for the years spent trying to recover, and I wish there could be established rituals to help me through this kind of mourning. There are so many of us in similar situations, trying to cobble together the support we need to move forward. I can’t be the only one who struggles to create those rituals on my own, and I can’t be the only one who feels let down by a world that refuses to acknowledge the pervasiveness and validity of the need for those rituals.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my Young Adult novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 
You have every right to be conflicted about your father’s death because you didn’t have a positive relationship due to his sexual abuse and other personality issues. I feel you can mourn someone being gone without truly being sad that the negative energy they brought into the world has been snuffed out, if that makes sense.Give yourself the grace to feel what you need to feel. Losing a parent who wasn’t a good parent is a complicated thing.
Thank you!
Rachel, peace be with you in this terrible moment. I so identify with your plight. It is so very difficult to battle, for a lifetime, the sense of not being heard, not being believed, not being valued enough to be believed in the face of the need of others to preserve the status quo (and their power in the process.) I admire your honesty and your strength in saving yourself at the expense of estrangement from your father, and in this moment from the traditions that in other circumstances would be a comfort to you. Please know that as your sister, if in another tradition (Quakerism) I am holding you in the light. You are a brave and inspiring woman.
Thank you so much!
I am thinking of you. This is a lot of difficult feelings to process, and all of these feelings are so valid. Your rabbi sounds pretty amazing and understanding.
A good rabbi/teacher makes so much of a difference.
I hope you are able to find peace, and be at peace.
Thank you!
I am so sorry you are going through this trying time, but hope that it will help you put some portion of the past to rest. I also saw that episode of “New Amsterdam” and found it troubling, but it also resonated when I read “A Day Like This,” by Kelley McNeil, one of my October Amazon First Reads selections, which also dealt (in a way) with false memories, though in a much more startling way.
Thank you!
“I am still processing my father’s death, and trying to figure out how it changes things, if it changes things. I am safer now than I was as a child. I am loved and supported and listened to and believed; and I cherish the people who have brought me comfort and made my world a better place.”
I am glad you have the comfort of your mom, dogs, and the support of your rabbi. Peace to you during your continued time of healing.
Thank you!!!
You’re most welcome.
Hugs, Rachel. No words, but hugs.
Thank you!
There’s always some mourning when a parent dies. If not for what was then for what might have been in a better world. Kind and gentle thoughts sent your way, friend.
Thank you so much!
I read every word of this post. I skim many, but not this one. May you be at peace tonight. (And maybe find a different tv show. I’m a retired school psychologist, so I always pay attention when psychologists are portrayed on tv and in movies. Usually, the writers get something about it wrong.)
Thank you!
Kaved. I like this idea. I do not wish to love my parents just because they were my parents either. It will take some time for you to work through this and let go. He is gone now and, dare I say.,..good riddance. That is how I felt about my mother’s death. I was relieved she was gone and all those memories of her physical abuse could go into the ground with her. Sorry but my own history just came out there . I am sending you a virtual hug. And it will be delivered by one of your dear little dogs.
The hug came at the perfect time! Thank you!
This is so brave and honest and true, Rachel. My heart hurts for that betrayed child but I so admire how you have learned to work through trauma. Thank you for sharing this. Yours in spirit.
Thank you so much!
Having read your book, I am reluctant to offer any condolences or sympathy or the death of a man who callously ruined lives for his own sexual gratification. For different reasons, I didn’t speak to or see my father from when I was 24, until his death when I was almost 40. When a cousin telephoned to tell me he head died, I felt nothing at all, like hearing about the death of a complete stranger.
It is not for me to tell you how to react to his death, but if I was in your situation, my first feeling would be relief.
Best wishes, Pete.
Thank you!
Sending hugs to you. ❤
Thank you!
Thank you for this eloquent and heartfelt description of the complex feelings aroused by the news of your father’s death. I hope that writing this post will have helped you to come to terms with it all.
Thank you!
I’m sorry for the loss of your childhood and for the conflicted feelings your father’s death brings. The mind does indeed shield us. For the past three months since my Dad’s death, my Mom (who has dementia) persists in the delusion that he is still alive, but out collecting the mail or some other mundane task.
The brain is a complex and fascinating thing!
My gosh. The ineffectiveness of the legal system is a known fact when it comes to dealing with victims. I worked in Criminal Courts and the court system as a fresh law grad. Your story and your views are important. I remember realizing when I was helping my boss on a case, how awful a life victims of pedophiles must lead after the terrible crime. Please keep revealing your thoughts. There are many who have to hear your voice. Stay strong.
Thank you so much!
You could be my sister as you write. I understand. Peace.
I was thinking of you through this, and it helped.
I am so glad. I really do understand your journey.
I like your rabbi’s take on weighing the obligation to father and mother. It is helpful. I’m sorry that you are not receiving all the support you need at this difficult time. Many people don’t understand those of us who don’t want to cover a parent’s abuse just to make everyone comfortable. We need to speak our truth; and that is more important.
I agree! Thank you!
I can so relate to recovered memories of sexual trauma from a family member being so important in healing. So much of my life of living with mental illness of depression and disassociated voices made sense after EMDR. The brain is a strange and beautiful thing and the ritual of forgiving his offense now that he is dead will hopefully bring you peace. When you are ready, you will know. My ability to forgive took 38 years.
Thank you!
May his memory be a blessing (I think that is how it goes). Grace and peace to you and your family in the days ahead. I still mourn my father daily. I am so sorry for your loss.
Thank you!
Thanks for that apt interpretation from your rabbi. My mother is still living, but I don’t have a relationship with her. I had to grieve a parent that was still living right after my dad also passed away, so I literally lost both parents around the same time. I think my dad was a huge buffer for my mom’s toxic behavior. And the veil was lifted after he passed. The relationship I had with my mom was very toxic and abusive. I had to step away after trying to help and be there for her, when in reality, I was a crutch for her behavior. I had to love her best by stepping away. Some people get it and others don’t, but it’s best for myself and my family not to maintain that relationship. I pray for her and care about her well being, but she needs to seek help before relying on others to solve all her problems while continually being abusive. I sought God and scripture on it each morning and mourned the hard decision and the relationship I would never have, but God has blessed me with other mother like figures. I’m thankful for those blessings. May you find peace and comfort in the Lord.
That sounds so smart, and really wonderful. Thank you!
Rachel,
After a very long break, just begin commenting/posting again, this week. Always loved your posts–another dog lover, here.
Appreciate that you shared this with us. Sorry, I didn’t know about the abuse that you’d suffered in the past. What I do know is that you strike me as a super knowledgeable, thoughtful, caring, and kind individual. Heh, glad to hear that you’re teaching. Your students are very lucky little fellows, indeed.
Take good care of yourself.
Blue
Thank you so much!
Here’s a short blog post that might be of help:
When An Abusive Parent Dies: A Different Kind of Grief
https://rachealsrest.org/abusive-parent-dies-different-kind-grief/
Some excerpts:
“I didn’t think you were close to your mom.
From what you‘ve told me about your dad, I would think you would be glad he’s dead.
Have you ever heard those words spoken to someone whose abusive parent died? Have you used them yourself?
It’s natural for an outsider to think those thoughts when they hear an abusive parent died. Yet for the child of an abuser, regardless of their age, there is still grief. Albeit, a different kind of grief. For the average person, the loss of a parent is a loss of memories. For the victim of abuse, it is the loss of hope. For the loving family, there is a desire and expectation of making even more happy memories in the future with that loved one who is now gone. For the survivor, the death of their abuser is a final loss of hope that there will ever be the creation of happy memories. Simply stated, normal families miss what they had with the deceased. Abusive families miss what they never had.”
. . .
“Regardless of your reaction, know that there is no wrong way to respond.”
. . .
“There is a book you may find helpful called ‘Liberating Losses: When Death Brings Relief’ by Jennifer Elison and Chris McGonigle.”
Thank you!!!
Condolence Rachel. May his soul rest in peace.
And may you find peace in a chaotic world we live in.
Yes, Rachel, hugging your puppy will help.
It really does!!!
Rachel, Because I was so fortunate to never experience the horror you went through as a child, I cannot say this is right or that is right. I can hope however, that instead of feeling more negative emotions surrounding your father’s death, you will be able to feel some sort of release. Please forgive me if I have way over-simplified this. I wish you only well.
Thank you!!!
Rachel you are so insightful, and a gifted writer. I hope that a loving and avid readership helps you at least a bit. There are many out “here” cheering you on and hoping to help your tears dry. I can’t imagine being as smart and strong.
Thank you so much!
I hope you find peace with your father’s death. There is no normal – not with loss, grief, lack thereof, or anything else. You do you. 🫂 Unfortunately, TV writers probably trying to make a point with someone in their own lives to excuse their own behavior will do them, but that’s another story. I know it when I see it and try not to let it bother me, but sometimes it still burns because – the nerve!
Thank you!!!
My thoughts are so much with you, Rachel. Sending big hugs.
Thank you!!!
I hope you come to terms with your father’s death. When my husband passed away three months ago, my overwhelming responses were grief at his loss but relief that his suffering had come to an end. But grief is the price of love, so I guess you have been spared that, though your early life experiences would surely provide the basis for another kind of grief: the loss of your innocence. Take good care of yourself, Rachel.
Thank you!
Peace to you.
Thank you!
4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Matthew 5:4 – – – You mourn for the childhood you wish you’d had. You mourn for the father you wish you’d had. You mourn for the tragedy of a life lived in selfish, sick, sexual gratification… and how miserable he must have been. You rightfully mourn. But now, in God’s perfect timing. I pray you can bury the tragedies along with the man who violated you… and you can feel God’s loving arms around you teaching you to move forward – stronger for enduring and surviving – “Being confident of this,
I take great comfort knowing He who began a good work in you will carry it out to completion…” Philippians 1:6 – Your experiences will be used for His purposes to help others. Thank you for your transparency, for your willingness to share, and for your obvious strength of character. God bless you!!
Thank you!
Much as I wanted to extend my condolences, finding about your full story made me do a U-turn.
I’m sorry about what has happened to you, and may you find the peace that has eluded you.
Thank you!
Your father’s death, as you say, creates enormous conflict. I know I would feel that the world is a better place without such a harmful, hurtful, unredeemed person. And yet there is more that is complex I’m sure. And yes, I agree w Rab L scout Kaved. A parent must treat a child w honor and respect and compassion and empathy if he would have that child return these feelings organically. Obligation is not relevant. Relationships are mutual only. And you are right that some rituals to process these more complicated relationships would be helpful. And people, meaning well but not knowing, Will “impose” the traditional “may memory be for a blessing” and this might make you feel alone since you wouldn’t want to tell every person your story. I’m glad you wrote this. The loss is not really of him… it was a stealing of you. May you find the freedom to plant your feet in a place of promise in which you feel a fullness of homecoming. Coming home to a self you value, a self you love.
Thank you!!!!
Aside from being listened to and believed, hugging a puppy does help!
Absolutely!
My thoughts are with you as you continue to process and find healing from your past. I couldn’t agree more with your Rabbi that we should not honor our parents blindly. What matters most now is that you matter and you’re loved. Big hugs
༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
Thank you! Hugs help so much!
My thoughts are with with you as you continue to process and find healing from the past. I couldn’t more with your Rabbi that we should not honor our parents blindly. What matter most now is that you matter and you’re loved! Big hugs
༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
*agree more 😌
Rachel, you’ve been through so much and are able eloquently write of your struggles in a way that is awe-inspiring. I’m sorry you are experiencing this but I am very grateful you share it.
Thank you so much!
Wow, such an important post. You are right to be skeptical. As a man, I see the many ways we dismiss women and girls and it breaks my heart. Your blog is a touchstone for beauty and truth.
Thank you so much!
I read this and felt so sorry (again) for your situation, and I know sadly you’re not unique. I can only agree with earlier comments and send supportive thoughts.
Thank you!
And doggies. Don’t forget the doggies.
Thank you Rachel for sharing this. I won’t offer any sorrow noting the past.
I am grateful for your sharing what your rabbi said to you and his thoughts on the word, Kaved.
I hope you find peace in all the emotions you are currently experiencing.
Thank you!
He can’t physically hurt you now, but emotionally, you probably always will be hurt to the degree you remember him. Hugs and may your memories fade, may you be comforted knowing you aren’t the one at fault.
Thank you!!!!
I would actually write to the show, and talk about your own experiences. If you want too though! Reading this, I was reminded of my own attack. I consider myself “lucky”, only because my “friends” girlfriend walked in before it get serious. I couldn’t tell you the date, other than it was warm. So it must have been Spring or Summer. Your mind just doesn’t want to remember. I think I remember what I was wearing, but I couldn’t be 100% I might actually write to them, lol
Thank you! So validating!
Thank you so much for sharing. My thoughts are with you.
Thank you!
I have no wisdom or comfort to offer here – but you have my 100% support in dealing with this however you wish, may, or must. Please take good care.
Thank you so much!
I am sending you a big, big hug and I wish you lots of strength for the upcoming months in case painful things come up you have forgotten or successfully pushed to the back of your mind. I am glad that you say you are in a safer place now – please remember this. (I also thing the rabbi had some good advice on the fourth commandment). Lots and lots of love to you!!
Thank you so much!!!
Oh, Rachel, I know your pain and struggle from experience. My abuser remained a part of my life because my mother forgave him. It took me about 30 years, and some years in therapy as well, to find the strength to give forgiveness. I believe that forgiveness came from knowing I was strong enough to make certain it would never happen again, and also that I was simply tired of living with the emotions unresolved and resonating unexpectedly. I am sending you many virtual hugs and support that your feelings about all of this are valid and should be accepted without question. I suspect that, as time wears on, you will work through whatever grief you may be experiencing, and please reach out to your support team if you need help!
Thank you!
I understand the conflicted emotions you are feeling about your father’s passing. Also, I was not aware of the original meaning of honoring one’s father and mother. This alone is quite valuable information. I wish you strength as you contemplate this death.
Thank you!