by Rebecca Katz

Moments My Bubbe Would Hate, Part 1: My Wedding

In early 2016, my maternal grandmother, Esther, passed away in her 100th year. Her grandchildren called her “Bubbe,” Yiddish for grandmother. She was a force in life- matriarch of our family, a proud rebbetzin and social worker—and remains a force in death. During significant life moments or times of transition, I often conjure her memory. I think about how she’d vocally disagree with most of my decisions and the pleasure she’d get from explaining why I’m wrong. I know she was proud of me and truly believed that, if only I listened to her, my life would be significantly better.

But our connection came from our independence; we both enjoyed our debates and knew we’d never meet in the middle.

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The views and opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of Lilith Magazine.