Grandma's Image by Oren Goodman

"I'm so proud of you today. Mazel Tov on being a Bat Mitzvah, darling."

Susan could smell the musk on her grandpa's suit as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her mother and father came over to her and handed her a prayer book and a folder.

"Dad, why don't you go call Diana and see if she's on her way? And Susie, why don't you take this to the sanctuary and put it on your seat?" Susan's mother was always pushy on special occasions.

Susan took the book and folder from her mother and walked out of the social hall, trying to keep steady on her uncomfortable high heels as she made her way down the dimly-lit hallway to the door of the sanctuary. As she reached up and pulled on the heavy door her prayer book and folder slipped out her grasp. She bent over, cleaned up the mess, and walked to the bima and put her load down on a chair that sat diagonal from the podium.

"Shabbat Shalom, Susan."

The voice startled her. She turned around to see Rabbi Rubin towering over her with a beaming smile.

"Oh, hi."

"How are you today?"

"Okay, I guess."

Her hand shook a little. Rabbi Rubin gave Susan a hug.

"There's no need to be nervous today, Susan. I'll be right next to you, helping you along. Today you become a woman. Show me I can be proud of my newest woman, Susan."

Susan had known Rabbi Rubin since she first came to the temple when she was in preschool. She thought about singing along with her at age six, dancing with her at age eight, baking cookies with her for sick congregates at ten, discussing her year of Hebrew language and Torah study with her at twelve, all of which had led to this day. Susan began to feel dizzy, and excused herself to the bathroom.

Susan supported herself along the walls of the bathroom. Her purple dress slipped down off her shoulders a bit, but she had no time to fix it. She felt her body convulse, but it was only a dry heave. She felt more relaxed now. Examining herself in the mirror, she saw part of her white bra was visible over the top of the dress. Today you become a woman. The words kept echoing in her head. How could this be true? She was still treated like a girl by her family. Her friends wore makeup, pretending to be sophisticated like their older sisters. Susan didn't have an older sister.
There was one woman Susan idolized: her grandmother Moira. Her eyes began tearing as she thought of her. She was always happy, able to make any bad situation seem trivial. When Susan was four, she went to the park with her grandma on one of her many trips to California. She had fallen down and scratched her knee. She thought the skin would never grow back. Grandma Moira explained to her with a smile that the skin always comes back. As she grew older, she learned about how smart her Grandma had been. She was a fund raiser for Brandeis University, focusing on giving underprivileged women a chance at an education. Susan knew her grandma as a smart and independent woman, until recently when her body and mind had started to shut down.

She thought back to last Wednesday, when she visited her grandma at the home with her father. The nurse had called them in on an emergency.

"We think she had some mini strokes last night. She didn't eat much of her food today, and she can't really talk."

"Dad, this isn't fair!" Susan protested.

"Honey, she's been sick for so long. This was going to happen eventually. Why don't you tell her about your Bat Mitzvah on Saturday?"

"I want her to be there!"

"I don't think that's an option right now."

Susan bent over her grandma's bed. Grandma Moira's hair was very damp, and she smiled, though her expression wouldn't change.

"Grandma, I'm having my Bat Mitzvah on Saturday, four days from now."

"Yeah, Mom. Can you believe it? Remember when you used to watch Susan when she was a baby? She's really growing up, huh Mom?"

Grandma Moira babbled something back.

"Well, at least she's processing," the nurse said.

Susan heard a loud knock at the bathroom door. She quickly pulled some paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed her eyes dry, threw the paper towel in the trash, straightened her hair with her fingers, and pulled up her dress.

She walked out the bathroom to find her dad waiting for her.

"You were in there a long time. Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine." Her voice sounded shaky. "Where's Mom?"

"She went to get some things out of the car."

"Oh."

"Honey, I know you're upset about Grandma Moira not being here today, but if she were aware and steady enough, you know she wouldn't miss this."

"I know, Dad. I think the retirement home is getting to her. She was so lively before."

"You know Grandma can't be alone. That's why I brought her to Ohio to be with us."

"But she's not with us today!"

"She's having a bad week. That's all."

Susan's father gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I know you'll do great. I'm so proud of you."



Susan sat nervously on the bima. You've made it through most of the service. All you need to do is relax. Rabbi Rubin called her up to deliver her Torah portion. She picked up the metal yad, a long metal stick that had a likeness of a hand with a pointed index finger. She carefully positioned the yad on the first line of her portion, which was carefully inked on to the giant scroll rolled open on the podium. She started to chant the Hebrew text using the yad to keep her place, as she had been instructed to do countless times during her six-month rehearsal.

She heard a loud thump in the audience, and saw her dad quickly get up and leave the sanctuary. The chanting stopped for a moment. Rabbi Rubin started to chant for her, and she knew she had to continue. A moment later, Susan heard the sanctuary door slam shut, and saw her father reenter and walk towards his seat, looking at the floor all the while. Susan felt uneasy in the pit of her stomach and stopped chanting again. Rabbi Rubin put her arm around Susan, who continued to read, feeling a little more at ease.



The luncheon was being served in the social hall. Susan sat still at her long table in the back, filled with her closest friends, mostly female, who were gossiping amongst one another. Susan tried to join in on their conversations, but was railroaded by constant hugs, congratulations and Mazel Tovs from relatives and friends of the family.

A candle holder with thirteen large blue candles was brought out and placed on a table in the center of the room. Susan's mother and father stood beside it and began to speak.

"I am so happy that you are all here to help us celebrate this wonderful occasion," her mother said.

Applause filled the room.

"Right now it is time for the candle lighting ceremony. Please welcome my daughter to the center of the room."

Everyone stood as Susan made her way to the candles. Her father lit a candle and handed it to Susan, and gave her a loving squeeze.

Susan began her candle dedications. Her mother handed her a piece of paper.

"My first candle is dedicated to my grandma Moira, who couldn't be here today." Her eyes began to well up. "But I know she would've loved to see me on this day, and I know she is here in spirit. I love you Grandma Moira, get better soon."

Her hand shook as she reached down to light the candle. Her dad quickly leaned over to help steady her hand.

As she dedicated the last candle, her father left room to answer his cell phone once more. He came back into the room with tears in his eyes. The candle lighting ceremony ended, and everyone went back to conversing. Susan was pulled aside by her father. He didn't have to speak. Susan hugged her father and cried. She thought of all the warm memories of her grandma, who was a strong woman. Today was Susan's day to become a woman. Today she became the woman her grandma had been.