Explaining my absence, and my hopes

To our dismay, and despite our continuous efforts to resolve matters amicably in order to avert expensive and emotionally exhausting litigation, the synagogue made good on its threats, filing a lawsuit which claimed the gifts my Mom bequeathed to us, and making grotesque assertions about my character in their legal documents, now public.

Consequently, since my Mom’s passing on July 1, 2016, we’ve been locked out of her La Jolla condo (which she gifted to me and my brother), unable to fully process and find closure with her passing.

As this torturous legal matter became progressively adversarial, my lawyer advised me to keep a low profile, which I’ve done – until now. Thankfully, the Probate Judge recently rejected the synagogue’s disinheritance efforts, and I’m hopeful that we’re at the beginning of the end of this emotionally exhausting period.

Despite all, I recognize that I’m among the luckiest people to have ever walked this earth. That’s why I’m determined to use my resources to assure that institutions in which our civil society must have “faith,” are held accountable for their conduct. I look forward to returning to my column, and to telling this story and its lessons, a saga I pray ends happily -- with a “win” for all, and an apology.

Throughout this ordeal, I’ve discovered various coping mechanisms (apart from my amazing husband), including these insights: “this too shall pass,” and “how people treat you is their karma, how you react is yours.“

As I frequently tell my son, life is filled with mountains of goodness and joy, as well as valleys of pain and despair. The secret to happiness, therefore, is learning how to raise your gaze high enough to see the mountains, while averting the valleys.

I’m especially grateful to all those -- including many readers -- who’ve helped me focus on my many "mountains" by being sources of support, wisdom and hopefulness. I also appreciate our American justice system, which is working, albeit slower than I'd like!

May the moral arc of this matter bend toward justice, realizing the prayers for my Mother to Rest In Peace, and for her memory to be a blessing to all she touched. Personally, I long to sit again in her apartment amid the keepsakes she cherished, and to finally be "comforted among the mourners of Zion," as Jews typically pray for the bereaved.

I look forward to writing about the stories and issues that animate this fascinating era, and am always happy to engage with readers through this website.