A number of years before my father passed away, he chose to move into a seniors' residence. The responsibility of deciding what to do with our family home was given to my sister and me. As she lives a province away, the task became exclusively mine.

The decision to keep the property or sell it was a difficult one. Keeping the house would involve investing in some updates, paying high property taxes, handling repairs, and dealing with tenants. It would also mean that my father would receive a continuous income from the rent and the market value of the house would probably increase regularly. On the other hand, selling the house would relieve my husband and me of the unwelcome responsibility of being landlords.

After much thought, discussion and deliberation, we decided to sell. The house "moved" quickly (to use the real estate jargon) and because the new owners were not Jewish, I felt obliged to take the mezuzot off the doorposts.

The day before the signing, I made one last visit to the home that was mine since I was a child. I walked slowly through each room remembering all the happy times my mother, my father, my sister, my bubbie and I shared in that house. Our home was always filled with friends and family and the wonderful aromas of good food. I was sad to let it go.

Now it was time to remove the mezuzah from the front door. I don't think it had ever been replaced so that same mezuzah was probably on the door frame for at least 40 years. Even when the house was painted, it remained there surrounded by multiple coats of paint. The mezuzah wasn't a fancy one, but I decided to give it to my sister knowing she would cherish it as a reminder of the happy times we spent in that home.

Still unsure of whether we had made the right decision to sell our family home, I approached the doorpost to remove the mezuzah -- the symbolic remnant of what I was leaving behind. Stunned, all I saw was an empty space where it had been affixed all those years! Utterly mystified as to what happened, I gazed down and saw it lying on the floor. Somehow, it had become loose and fallen down. Now, you can interpret this in many ways. I chose to see it as some sort of sign that our family's tenure in the house was now complete. Comforted by that thought, I picked up the mezuzah and walked out the door. I was ready to move forward with no regrets.  

As we begin this New Year, let's not dwell on past mistakes or missed opportunities. Let us move forward and focus on the possibilities that lie ahead. 

 

Shabbat Shalom,

Eleanor

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