Pride nachas nervous anticipation. A child really dressed — and feeling! — like a man in his suit starched shirt shiny shoes and impeccable new hat. Adults fuss over him; nervous giggles from his sisters as they wish him hatzlachah on the leining; his mother’s tears shine through her smile as she kisses his head.
My eldest brother the oldest grandson on both sides of the family was born on Tishah B’Av. Thirteen years later the 9th of Av fell out on a Shabbos with the fast pushed off to the following day Sunday.
That Shabbos Shabbos Chazon the whole family gathered for the first bar mitzvah. This was a big event for both sides of the family and as my mother’s parents had only daughters this bar mitzvah was truly a milestone. Long-lost cousins were hosted for Shabbos so they could join the festivities and the entire town it seemed had come out in droves to be part of the rav’s simchah.
And then at the dramatic moment that the bochur habar mitzvah was called up for his aliyah my grandmother — a strong stalwart woman whose coping skills granted her and her family a life of normalcy and dependability — broke down.
