It Could Have Been Me: In Memory of Helen Bailey

When I read about the brutal murder of Helen Bailey I knew right away that it could have been me. Helen Bailey (1964 - 2016) was a British author who wrote teen fiction. She was also a widow.

In 2011, at the age of 46 while on vacation in Barbados, Bailey's husband of 22 years died suddenly. He went into the sea for a morning swim, was caught in a riptide and drowned. In her own words she was still  a “wife at breakfast” and became a “widow by lunch."

In spite of her deep mourning, Bailey did everything within her power to get better and move on. She sought the help of a bereavement coach who helped her deal with her grief, she wrote a blog called Planet Grief, in which she detailed her struggle to cope with the sudden loss of her husband, and she joined an online support group for people who had lost their spouses.

And then something joyful happened, after eight months of widowhood she met through that group a  “gorgeous grey-haired widower" (her words), whose wife died suddenly in 2010.

Helen Bailey probably felt that she met a kindred spirit. They started out as friends, then grew closer, started dating and finally moved in together and bought an old house in Royston, Hertfordshire

According to her bereavement coach, Helen Bailey was a person who wanted to feel “secure and safe”, like she had with her late husband. She added that “there was never any inkling or sign that she was anything but safe” with her new partner.

It seems that after her world was shattered, she could rebuild her life with her new partner Ian Stewart. So in order to make him feel secure as  well, in case she died, Bailey changed her will and left him all her money, She gave him  power of attorney as well.

People love a happy ending, and there is nothing more heartwarming than a story about a  widow and a widower who find  love and happiness.

But on April 2016, Helen Bailey disappeared, and three months later her remains were found buried in the Royston house. Her new partner was charged with her murder.

I am almost certain that most of the people who read about Helen Bailey and her tragic death ask themselves how could she have been so naïve and so blind? Didn’t she suspect anything?

But to me as a widow it makes perfect sense:  I was not used to being suspicious, I had no reason to. Moreover, in the first year of mourning, when I was hungry for warmth and kindness, I trusted people even more. I can even identify with Bailey’s wish to insure the future of her new partner in the event of her death. Hadn't he suffered enough?

Actually, apart for the ending, my own biography is almost identical to that of Helene Bailey. My husband died when I was relatively young, I was helped by a kind bereavement coach, and like her, I found my partner another “gray haired gorgeous widower” online.

My partner and I were both safe and secure in our previous life, and that is why we  were not used to being suspicious. We were probably naïve, but we gained a lot by being able to trust each other.

This is a horrifying story for everyone, but it is especially scary for widows. Still l believe that it is better to be generous and trusting, like Helen Bailey, than to lose your faith in love and humanity. I am so sad that she was proven wrong.

The post appeared in the Times of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/it-could-have-been-me-in-memory-of-helen-bailey/

For Father’s Day: The Father As A Teacher

Growing up in Israel in the late 1950s I hardly have any childhood memories of my father. He was always away at work. My mother and my older brother were in charge of my upbringing. I got to know my father only as an adult. Children books and magazines, from that time, tell a similar story to mine. The father was always absent, either physically at work, or emotionally. Pictures of the father show him quite withdrawn, sitting behind a newspaper which separates him from the rest of his family.

It seems that fathers in the 1950s were spoilt by their family, which demanded nothing of them but gave them a lot of respect. But already in the 1980s things were different, my husband was an involved father, as the following Father’s Day story indicates.

It all started with a project: a dollhouse made out of wooden bookcase, which my daughters built together with their father. They had labored on it for weeks, and then when the dollhouse was finally done it was time to furnish it.

My husband asked the girls to make a list of the essential items they needed in order to furnish the different rooms of the house. Their wish list was very long: there were so many things that they just couldn't do without.

Then he said: “This is an excellent list, and we will be happy to split the cost of the furniture that you have chosen.” He announced it as though he was handing out a big  award, which in a way he was. It was just that they were caught off guard, our daughters were certain that we would be paying for everything.

I was as surprised as the girls: my husband had not revealed his plan, he was probably worried that I would object. Indeed, although I said nothing and went along, I secretly felt that at the age of 7 and 8 they were too young to have their wings clipped in such a way. They were thrilled about the finished dollhouse and were looking forward to the endless possibilities of interior design.

It is not that he wasn't willing to spend the money, quite the contrary, like the rest of us he was anxious to see the dollhouse come to life. In retrospect I understand that this was a brilliant fiscal move. He seized an opportune  moment to teach our daughters the meaning of money -- value, making choices, taking responsibility, accountability and even patience.

The girls were not even resentful, as rational creatures they just went ahead, made the calculation of how much money they were willing to spend, and came up with a much shorter list of the most important items.

As a business professor, and a father, he wanted to demonstrate to his daughters the concept of an  "interested party." In our case it meant that if they wanted something, they had to take action. It was also an enabling lesson, the girls saved money to buy new furniture, and made some decorations themselves. The dollhouse became more meaningful and valuable because we, the parents, refrained from buying all the furniture for them at once.

My husband believed that children should learn early about money so that they could grow up to be responsible adults. But he was able to teach them such a lesson only because he was close to his daughters, and worked together with them. It is true that my own father had a much easier life at home, but I feel that since he was absent, he missed out a lot.

Happy Father's Day!

 The essay appeared in the Times of Israel 

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/for-fathers-day-the-father-as-a-teacher/

Furnishing The Dollhouse: A Lesson About Money

It all started with a project: a dollhouse made out of wooden bookcase, which my daughters built together with their father. They had labored on it for weeks, and then when the dollhouse was finally done it was time to furnish it.

My husband asked the girls to make a list of the essential  items needed to furnish the different rooms of the house. Their wish list was very long: there were so many things that they just couldn't do without.

Then he said: “You did a great job, and we will be happy to  halve the cost of the furniture that you have chosen.”  He announced it ceremoniously, as though he was handing out a big  award, which in a way he was, it was just that they were caught off guard, our daughters were sure that we were paying for everything.

I was as surprised as the girls:  my husband had not divulged to me his plan;  he was probably worried that I would protest.  Indeed, although I said nothing and went along, I  secretly  felt that at the age of 7 and 8 they were too young to have their wings clipped in such a way. They were thrilled about the finished dollhouse and were looking forward to the endless possibilities of interior design.

It is not that he wasn't willing to spend the money, quite the contrary, like the rest of us he was anxious to see the dollhouse come to life. In retrospect I understand that this was a brilliant fiscal move. He seized an opportune  moment to teach our daughters the meaning of money  - value, making choices, taking responsibility, accountability and even patience. 

The girls were not even resentful, as rational creatures they just went ahead, made the calculation how much money they were willing to spend, and came up with a much shorter list of the most important items.

As a business professor,  My husband also wanted to demonstrate to our daughters the concept of an  "interested party -- any of the people or organizations who may be affected by a situation, or who are hoping to make money out of a situation.” In their case, it meant that if they wanted something  they had to take action. It was also an empowering lesson, the girls saved money to buy new furniture, and made some decorations themselves. The dollhouse has become more meaningful and valuable because we didn’t just buy all the furniture for them at once.

Victoria and Albert Museum of Childhood in London has a collection of Georgian and Victorian  dollhouses. Some of the large ones were used as an instruction device for young women to practice the subject of home economics in preparation for their future role as ladies of the house.

 http://www.museumofchildhood.org.uk/

Our dollhouse was used in a similar fashion, my husband believed that children should learn early about money so  that  they could grow up to be responsible adults. 

Soon Santa will be visiting many families, perhaps now, before he arrives, it is also an auspicious time to start talking to children about money .

Make Room For Chapter 2:

A good friend, a widower, told me once that the main bones of contention in chapter 2 are children and money. In case you wonder about the meaning of  “chapter 2," in Hebrew it is the title of the meaningful relationship which occurs if or when “chapter 1,” in which people get married and have children, ends.

Many people are lucky and have only one chapter in their life, but others, due to unfortunate circumstances such as death or divorce, are left on their own. Some of them choose to turn a new page

My husband and I met when I was 19 and he was 22, and were married for 32 years. We had planned to be together for at least another 30 years, but as the Yiddish expression wisely states: “man plans and God laughs”: at 52 I was all of a sudden a widow.

 It took time to come to term with that new label,  I even dreaded going to the Interior ministry to change my marital status on my identity card from “married” to a “widow.”

Being a researcher at heart one way to relate to my new reality was to investigate widowhood. I met different widows and widowers and talked to them about their feelings and about the crucial first year of bereavement. It was an attempt to make sense of the loss and perhaps to ease the pain by studying it .

It  also felt comfortable to surround myself with people like me, and gradually I found many new friends who were widowed. We easily connect;  it is almost as though we have our own secret  language. One of the new friends is my partner whom I met a year and a half after I became a widow. He told me that losing his wife after 30 years, he just knew that his partner For “chapter 2” would be a widow.

Yet as the name suggests, unlike the significant chapter 1, its successive is somewhat secondary. While the first chapter sets the action and the tone for the whole book, chapter 2 works best when it develops the themes of the first. If it doesn't it could confuse and irritate the reader, and may even lead to disbelief. John Fowles tried to play with readers' expectations in the two endings of The Magus and lost their trust.

Reality is not that different from literature and as chapter 2  tries to be independent and assumes a life of its own it often creates feelings of suspicion and even ill-will among children and other family members. And, as my friend suggested, sometimes this mistrust manifests itself in issues related to money. Thus like a skilled author, members of chapter 2 find themselves trying to give power and significance to their allotted chapter all the while keeping in mind promises and assumptions which were set in chapter 1.

This is not an easy task, in books and in real life.

But for me chapter 2 is more than just having a meaningful relationship, it is the name of the new life which has emerged from the ashes. Obviously this phase is characterized by many challenges, but it also offers unexpected rewards and joful moments. One of them happened not so long ago, in my home when a group of us sat together to a New Year dinner. Out of 11 guests 7 were widowed. We were not gloomy, quite the contrary, we were a group of people whose loss enabled  us to create new meaningful relationships. We felt happy and close, almost like a family-- the family of Chapter 2.

Do We Indulge Or spoil Our Children? It Depends On The Language

Yesterday  a group of us sat around the table for Shabbat dinner. We didn't discuss world peace or the chance to finally bring it to the Middle East. The most burning issue was the high price of housing, which makes life in Israel hard, especially for young people.

This is not a new problem, when we were young my husband and I could not afford to  buy an apartment since, unlike the US,  it was not possible to put  only 10% or 20 % down payment and to borrow the rest from the bank.  We had to come up with most of the money upfront, so we rented.

The rule of thumb in rent, we were told, is that payment should not exceed one third of the monthly income: we were lucky to be able to keep it at that level. However,

Please keep on reading in the Times of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/do-we-indulge-or-spoil-our-children-it-depends-on-the-language/