(Author: Charlotte Cohen, Vol. 80, #1, Autumn, 2025)
Molly Cohen passed away just 9 days short of her 100th birthday which would have been on 18 November 2013. Prior to her death, she was the last surviving Ochberg Orphan in Cape Town.
‘Connections and Recollections’ (in 2006 Temple Rosh Hashanah Annual, 2007 Pesach edition of ‘Jewish Affairs, and later in David Sandler’s book, ‘The Ochberg Orphans’ published in Australia in 2014) described Molly’s early life in war-torn Eastern Europe, being rescued by the incredible Isaac Ochberg, brought to South Africa and growing up in Cape Town at Oranjia, the Cape Jewish Orphanage.
Molly married before she was twenty and had two sons. With the untimely and sudden death of her husband (at the age of 33), she was left a very young widow. Molly always worked hard and nothing was ever handed to her on a plate. Yet she was ‘a lady to her fingertips’ … beautiful in appearance; her manner restrained and gentle.
Molly became my mother-in-law in 1959. Our relationship was respectful and cordial. After my divorce in 1987, our paths separated. However, after my younger son, Steven, married in 2003, my association with Molly was revived and renewed.
So much had happened in our lives in the interim, that the formal roles of ‘mother-in-law’ and ‘daughter-in-law’ became more undefined.
Now, with shared concerns and convictions, we became friends.
One never knows how life will deal the cards. Nor can one anticipate how two completely separate lives may intertwine …
Both of us had experienced great trauma during our lifetimes.
Born in 1913, for the first years of her life – during the First World War (1914 – 1918) and before she was rescued by Isaac Ochberg, Molly was an orphan in Eastern Europe. After Isaac Ochberg brought the ‘Ochberg Orphans; back to South Africa, she grew up in an orphanage in Cape Town. Because of the untimely death of her husband, she was left a widow, and her two young sons were left fatherless at a very early age.
Tragedy had also overtaken my life in that my sons (and Molly’s grandsons) both died within 4 years of each other – aged 45 and 42 respectively.
My ex-husband, their father, had also passed away.
Molly and myself, despite our age difference – and despite us both enjoying a laugh, a joke and good company – were both destined to meet ‘the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’ head-on.
One of the greatest acts of compassion and kindness – and one which I will never forget – was when Molly attended the funeral of my younger son – and her grandson, Steven – in May 2010. Although a chair was placed for her at the graveside, Molly, aged 97, refused to sit down. She stood before the grave with her arm around me – never removing it and never leaving my side. After the burial, both of us sat on a bench erected at the cemetery in memory of Rodney and Steven – my sons and her grandsons.
Molly and I were both blessed on that bench by Rabbi Richard Newman. It will remain ingrained in my memory for as long as I live.
As well as many others on whom she had a profound effect, Molly became an integral part of my life in the years before her death. I often think of the times she would phone me to chat – or the talks we had when I popped in to see her. Even at age 99, she would still insist on making tea herself, which she brought on a tray to a small table by the window where would sit and discuss things and exchange ideas. What Molly said was clear, simple and meaningful.
Despite her gentle approach, she was not hesitant in speaking her mind; and even though she was in her late nineties, when she felt that it was time I needed to hear some real sense, she made her thoughts known to me.
In fact, being with her, was like being in a sanctuary – therapeutic, comforting, educational and uplifting.
On one occasion she remarked: “People are mean to one another because of three things: They are either jealous, they feel inadequate or they want to be ‘top dog’. … The three factors she cited were real food for thought: “Think of anyone who falls into one of these categories” she said. “Whether they are jealous, feel inadequate or think you are invading their space, it makes no matter what you do in order to win them over: They are never going to ‘like’ you. Not because the fault lies with you – but with them. …. So you are wasting your time. Best thing is to move out and move on”
Her counsel changed my thinking and attitude.
Another exchange |I had with Molly a few months before her passing, was again one of the most meaningful I have ever had. It has also impacted on many others to whom I have posed the same question and then related what she said.
I asked her “What is it about yourself – what you did with your own life – that has made you most proud?” … (What would your response be if that question were asked of you?)
Without hesitation, she answered: “When I said I would do something, I did it!”
For a few moments, I absorbed her statement.
“So you could be trusted?” I said.
“Yes,’ she replied simply.
What an incredible thing to be able to say about oneself: “I could be trusted.”
Of course, the statement embraces much more than just those four words. It also shows loyalty, commitment and determination.
There are things that cannot be bought. They have to be earned. They offer rewards greater than any money can buy – not only for you – but for those who have ever been in contact with you. (If you lose them, no amount of money can buy them back).
They are trust and respect.
Molly epitomised those qualities. Her legacy of wisdom, friendship, understanding and good advice remains with all who were privileged to have known her.
Rescued by ‘Daddy Ochberg’ (as the Ochberg Orphans called him) as a child of 5 – and having lived a life which typified guts, determination, courage and kindness, Molly personified the same characteristics and attributes which exemplified Isaac Ochberg and which, in its own way, perpetuates Ochberg’s prestigious memory.
- Charlotte Cohen, a veteran contributor to Jewish Affairs, is an award-winning short story writer, essayist and poet whose work has appeared in a wide variety of publications since the 1970s.
