Sabrina Myriam Souffir, best known for her love of her only son Nathan, has passed away. She was a lover of life, collector of books, and the biggest music fiend you could have ever met. Sabrina was like a powerful sun. She possessed a soul too big for this world. Her greatest desire was to give and to feel richly loved.
Her family called her “La Duchesse”. She carried herself like one. Sabrina never drank full glasses of wine. She preferred big glasses with small amounts in them. She said it was more elegant that way. Sabrina exuded charm in everyday interactions. A simple trip to the pizza shop brought joy to those she bumped into. The building’s guard, customers at the pizza shop, and the cashier — they all lit up when they saw her. Sabrina's laugh was full of light. She was the epitome of joie de vivre with her presence alone.
Sabrina was the different one in her family. At 21, she moved to England to be an au pair. Single girls her age weren’t expected to explore. She wanted to see what else there was besides her tiny home in France. She discovered a new language, music, theater, and endless culture. Sabrina soaked it all up. When she returned to France, she continued this musical journey. She played Pink Floyd, Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson, and other iconic records on repeat. Not a day passed without music playing in her home. If you stood outside her door in the mornings, you’d hear her records, CDs, and sometimes the radio intermingled with bright singing. She was always singing.
Sabrina became an English teacher. She taught children from many different backgrounds; orphans, foster kids, religious kids, special needs kids, and “regular” too. Her students weren’t easy. They spoke back at her, poured their emotional burdens onto her, disrespected her, and yet they adored her. They soaked up her love. She had an unconventional manner of teaching. Her bosses would argue with her to be more traditional. She’d make up songs, show them movies, take her students on field trips, and dress up in fun ways just to teach them a few words. When Nathan was born and wasn’t in school himself, she’d take him to the classroom. She was simultaneously the breadwinner and Nathan’s caregiver. She did it successfully and with love.
Sabrina did everything for Nathan. Sometimes, she’d wake him up early in the morning and they would drive two hours to the beach for fun. For his bar mitzvah, she cashed in her life insurance to throw her son an extravagant party. Nathan saw great musicians in concert and all the newest movies, and read endless books that Sabrina relished and shared with him. They criss-crossed France together, exploring famous cities, monuments and museums. One of Nathan’s most cherished trips happened when they mistakenly stayed in a vacation town for retired people. He still remembers how out of place they were, and how it didn’t change a thing. Sabrina was driven by a determination for her son to feel loved. She wanted him to be the happiest son in the world.
When Nathan grew up, Sabrina tried pouring her excess love into others. Her special needs students thrived because of her. Her parents lived longer, and happier, with her care. For the holidays, she prepped for weeks to welcome her son and his girlfriend into her home. She even baked pastries with margarine to accommodate her daughter-in-law’s1 dietary needs. French people don’t bake pastries with margarine. Sabrina’s front porch was her second fridge. She stored the pots of pkaila, mezuki, loubiya, and other Tunisian goodies she cooked up. She loved making Shabbat for Nathan. Sabrina wanted Nathan to remember that he was a Jew. If the way to his soul was through his stomach, Sabrina was the Anthony Bourdain of the spiritual realm.
Hidden throughout her apartment in Creteil, Sabrina held on to remnants of love. She kept tens of pairs of baby shoes, toddler shoes, pre-teen shoes, and a few pairs of adolescent shoes. Sabrina saved every single drawing Nathan brought home as a toddler. In her bedroom, she left a broken skateboard underneath Nathan’s toddler bike. It reminded her of when Nathan’s life was spared after a car almost ran over him. Sabrina’s purses were littered with ticket stubs for museums, operas, orchestras and countless other shows. In between her workbook pages and recipes, on her kitchen counters and bathroom vanity were unsent notes to her sisters, to the world, and herself. She was always writing. She never threw out the dresses she wore to different events: her son’s bar mitzvah, weddings, and so many happy occasions. Whatever she saved in her home exuded the same message: a desire to hold onto love.
At her funeral, the Rabbi gave a speech. He shouted so people could hear him between their tears. Sabrina Myriam Souffir was a powerful sun. He bellowed. She shone strongly every day. Sometimes, her sun was covered in thunderstorms and heavy clouds. But she was a powerful sun.
Sabrina is survived by her loving son, Nathan. If mothers are judged by their children, then Sabrina has flown straight to heaven. Nathan’s kindness and spirit are a testimony to the love Sabrina poured into him and the world. His gentle manner, loyalty, and adherence to Jewish tradition reflect the magnificent person who raised him. Sabrina will continue to live through Nathan, her sisters, her students and the people she loved. Sabrina’s soul will shine bright through those who will pass on her love to others.
Sabrina used to say, “Nathan’s birthday is my birthday too.” When she passed, a little piece of Nathan died too. His childhood started to disappear. With every pair of baby shoes Nathan packed to give away, a little bit of him was given away too. His world will forever miss the love Sabrina poured into him.
Nathan’s birthday might have been hers, and Sabrina’s death is a little bit of his too.
Thank you so much,
, for your suggestions, thoughts and insights on this piece. You helped me craft something beautiful.If you’d like a written portrait of someone you love, send an email to yehudismilchtein@gmail.com
From the first time I met Sabrina, she referred to me as her son’s fiancee. Though Nathan and I aren’t married, I consider her my mother-in-law because of this. In many ways, our relationship reflected that status as well.
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
A wonderful tribute, Yehudis.