(Based on a true story)
Libby was one of those girls who had everything going for
her. Her family was respected and well established. Her
siblings had made excellent shidduchim. She was known
to be a fine teacher. She had presence, attractive features,
and a charming personality. Her character traits were
refined and she had, above all, a good reputation. [And even
some respectable savings in the bank.] No one was more
surprised then she was when time passed by and she was still
single.
She didn't allow her feelings to show. So at least on the
outside, Libby kept smiling, still looking like happy,
successful Libby. But deep down she was in pain. She cried
out her heart to Hashem.
Finally, after six long years of shidduchim, a
wonderful offer came along that eventually changed her life.
The shadchan, her own aunt, didn't spare adjectives to
describe Dov. Her uncle's student, he was everything Libby
ever dreamed of, the aunt assertively expressed.
She was not short of praises. But this time, the phone calls
seemed to confirm the superlatives used. The more she heard,
the more interested she was in the offer. She felt
privileged to have been suggested such a gem of a boy.
Following very positive inquiries, she went out with Dov.
She was so tired of all the years of disappointments that
this time she decided to push herself to ignore any second
thoughts that might ruin her future, especially in case "he
was the one" . . .
The meetings were not disappointing. She enjoyed his company
and noticed admirable qualities. After all, Dov really had a
reputation and a charismatic presence. He seemed to be a
serious ben Torah. She was thrilled when things progressed,
elated to get engaged.
Libby's parents were very taken not only with the
chosson, but with his family as well. They had a lot
in common and got along well. They were particularly
impressed with the mechutonim's sincerity. They seemed
to be very straight, genuine people.
The engagement was unforgettable. After all those years of
search -- she had finally found her other half. Libby's eyes
were shining and the joy was contagious. Her parents
couldn't stop smiling. They were just perfect for each
other!
The wedding and sheva brachos were even more blissful.
Everything worked out as planned. The simcha of the
year. An outstanding wedding for an outstanding couple . . .
She was in the clouds, couldn't believe it was not a dream.
Everything seemed so wonderful.
Eventually she settled in her routine and so did Dov. She
was back to teaching her class with the excited young girls,
while he was learning in kollel. But months after the
glass was broken, so, eventually, was her peaceful serenity
and joy shattered . . .
Once, while sweeping under the couch, she noticed a small
box. She almost automatically threw it in the garbage, but a
last minute reflex made her pick it up and examine it. Libby
had never seen those pills before and assumed they must be
Dov's. When asked about it, he dismissed Libby with an
embarrassed smile and artificial gestures: "Nothing really.
Just for colds."
"Really?"
"Yes and no."
Libby couldn't help but wonder why he suddenly looked so
nervous and unsettled, stuttering:
"So-so-so what? What do you want?"
"You sound so defensive. Why?"
"Well, you know . . . What difference does it make? What do
you want from me? Can't I even have some cold medicine
around without you getting all worried???" Dov then slammed
the door angrily and walked out of the house.
Libby didn't really want to doubt her partner in life, but
something about his tone of voice and concerned expression
made her suspect that the pills were not plain old aspirin .
. . So she opened the box and . . . She was shocked at
what she read. Maybe it was just a nightmare and she would
soon wake up and it was only a dream?
No, there was no escape from reality. Libby felt dizzy and
nauseated. She held onto the table for balance and struggled
to keep the tears away. They burst anyway into sobs. A
million questions zoomed through her mind: "What is this all
about? Is the diagnosis really that serious? How does it
affect his life? How will it affect my future? How come I
never noticed or suspected anything?"
Suddenly she remembered the few times when slight aspects of
his behavior had caught her attention. But she had rejected
such impressions because they didn't make sense . . .
Everything overall seemed OK . . . Really, she even got
angry with herself for when those "silly" questions had
popped into her head. No, as a kallah, she had pushed
away any judgments that could possibly interfere with the
grand happiness.
And today, when she found the medicine and confronted him,
he dared lie to her face! "What do I do now? Ask him again?
What excuse will he make up this time? Will he lie that the
drug is really for allergies and the company that produced
it mistakenly labeled as something else? Can I willingly
possibly find a way to come to terms with this?
"My imagination is running wild; I can picture so many
agonizing scenarios. I can't believe no one told me . . .
Why??? So that he could get married? But what about me?
Didn't that matter? Could it really be that no one knew
about the condition?
"How far can people go to bury secrets? Shouldn't I have
been given the right to know what kind of a relationship I
was getting into? What about my husband? How can I trust
this person again if such vital information was hidden from
me?
"What did he gain by hiding it? Distrust, anger, hurt??"
[Editor's note: The author has purposely left this article
open-ended. I challenged her and said that if the young
woman had been living with it up till then, whatever it was,
couldn't she continue, and make the best of the situation as
her husband's helpmate, considering all the positive sides
that had made it a good marriage up until then?
Perhaps this was her destiny life, as it was the choice of
the kallah of Hagaon R' Isser Zalman Meltzer
zt'l to marry a sickly Godol who would live a long but
very sickly life, rather than turn down this shidduch?
We heartily encourage readers to give us their input on this
important matter, either through the author or the editor:
Weinbach, Panim Meirot 1, Jerusalem / FAX 02-5387998 or
email to shyated@netvision.net.il ]
Rebbetzin Travis has many years of experience and success
in helping people through shiduchim. Please note that
all names have been changed unless specified with the
exception of well-known public figures like Gedolim
and educators. Any comments, questions and stories can be
sent to: dytravis@013.net or at (02) 656- 3111
