Thank You, Abe


November 26, 2014 by Melanie L.

I can’t think of a better time to reflect on my immigrant great-grandparents, the sacrifices they made, and the resulting birthright of freedom and privilege they bestowed upon me than at Thanksgiving.

I have a hard enough time parting with my children for two nights every other weekend that the mere thought of parting with them for weeks, let alone years or decades, pains me.  Yet, that is the sacrifice my maternal great-grandfather, Abe Nissman, made when he came to this country without his family.

Just over 100 years ago, in 1910, 42-year-old Abe kissed his wife, Bessie, and three children, Micah (12), Meyer (5) and Morris (20 months), goodbye and never once returned to his homeland of Lublin, Bessarabia, Romania.

Abe worked for years to get naturalized, save money, and arrange for his family’s passage. While he worked, his family carried on without him.  Abe did not read his children any stories, nor did he tuck them into bed.  He did not kiss them goodnight.  His family, at least, had each other.  How lonely must he have been half a world away?  How painful was it for him to part with his children for as long as he did?


Uncle Meyer

When Abe’s two boys grew into their late teens, Abe was not there to guide them through that difficult transition to adulthood nor protect them from their own foolhardy teenage arrogance.  Indeed, when Meyer was at that age, he drew the attention of a soldier who found sport in cutting Meyer’s eye from his face.


Aunt Micah and her husband, Dr. Lazar Tolpalar

By the early 1920’s, Abe opened immigrant passage accounts to save money for his family’s fares.  But, Micah never came to the States.  During Abe’s absence, his daughter had fallen in love with a doctor and bore him three children.  She didn’t want to uproot her children.  Although my family does not know how exactly Micah and her children met their end, we do know they were murdered in the Holocaust.  When Abe left, he couldn’t have known he was leaving his 12-year-old daughter forever.

Finally, after 15 years, Abe finally sent for his wife, Bessie, and Morris, then 17 years old.  They arrived on December 7, 1925 followed two months later by Meyer in February, 1926.

In an unfortunate twist of fate, Abe died a mere three years later, in 1929.  My grandfather, Morris, never really knew his father.  Morris died before I was born and so I never knew him.


My handsome grandfather, Morris.

My kids often meltdown at bedtime.  They act like it is news to them that they have to brush their teeth again.  They’d rather flit about like woodland sprites naked through the house than put on their pajamas.  But in those moments of chaos, I am grateful that I have my children under my roof, that I (eventually) put them to bed and kiss them goodnight.  And, when I get lonely an hour later, I can peek in on them and watch their chests rise and fall under their fleece blankets.

Now, as I tuck my kids into bed this Thanksgiving week, long after Abe and his own children have all passed on, I haven’t forgotten my great-grandfather and the choice he made to leave his children behind to put me and my children ahead.

10 thoughts on “Thank You, Abe

  1. Quite a story! And nonfiction at that!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Vanessa D. says:

    I think that people in any generation who leave all that is familiar behind in hope of a new and better life are some of the bravest people around.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A gorgeous story that, if anything, accentuates our commonalities as humans; I’m just sorry that so much pain is ‘necessary/required’ for us to learn as a species. I will return to your insightful example of calmness when I’m myself feeling at the boiling point of frustration with the kids: “But in those moments of chaos, I am grateful that I have my children under my roof, that I (eventually) put them to bed and kiss them goodnight.” Excellent.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Silverleaf says:

    I love this! I love the family history, the stories of heartache and sacrifice, and the appreciation of what we have (which often frustrates us no end, but in a good way!). Thank you for sharing this wonderful story – and for reminding us all that while the stubborn, naked, wild little sprites may need correcting, their at times poor behaviour isn’t the end of the world.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Natalie DeYoung says:

    What an incredible story. Stories about our pasts, and how our relatives sacrificed so we could have better lives, are so incredible.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Lourdes Mint says:

    And I’m grateful you shared — a great story, well told.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I have had much the same feelings as I have uncovered my relatives’ journeys from their homelands, struggling to make a new life in America. I’d like to think that if we had to take their place, we would have the same fortitude to carry on through the hardships. There is some comfort in that thought.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Melanie L. says:

      Definitely. I hope I would have had that strength. All I know is that my life as a single urban mom is pretty tough, both physically and emotionally challenging. But it comforts me when I think about how hard my forbears had it. My life is easy by comparison and I’m so grateful for it.

      Liked by 1 person

  8. Steve says:

    Well done. Sounds a lot like my story too.


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Behind the Blog

Melanie L.

Melanie L.

Wanna-be writer, amateur oil painter, practicing law and motherhood with varied success.

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