Sorry for the lack of posting yesterday, but we were on the road again, heading to our home, confused, grief stricken, unsure of what follows, but on the way home again, though to a very different home. Yitzy did not live with us, at least physically, but he would visit, and in fact, was supposed to come this January and engage in his love of kayaking. So much for plans of people when they come up against the plans of a higher power. A power which has done us wrong in taking a bright light, a hope for a future, a child of pure heart and soul. Cherished by all. A child who will be mourned and missed forever by family and friends.
This is also a child who will continue to live on within his family. Stories of his achievements, his character, his mischievous pranks, his sense of humor, his deep faith and willingness to accept the apparent wishes and decrees of his G-d. A brave soul, far braver than I and in fact, most adults as well.
Where does one go to try to understand or accept what has happened? Is there, in fact, any manner in which one can be 'ok' with the event of this year, 2023. How does one reconcile the active, vital child of 2022 with the shadow of himself by end of life? Too weak to do much of anything, his last burst of energy was spent in celebrating Chanuka, typical of him and his deep faith. His family with him, laughing with a bittersweet sound, with tears of acid, knowing this was the end. No more could be done. But how in the name of everything, how does one resign oneself to the most unjust situation where a boy of 13 is going to die, after a year of such strong battle? How? Is there an answer? Anywhere? I fear not.
And so, I am left with a load of anger and bitterness. A sense of helplessness, a sense of failure, that I could not do anything to prevent such a miserable act. How could I, a mother, a grandmother, fail in the most important duty of these roles? How could I not protect my kids? Not protect them with my own life. Was that not a major, the prime, responsibility of parent and grandparent?
How do I manage my own anger and loss even as I must be there for the stricken family? How to be a supportive pillar for them in this moment of stark grief, when this column of support has its own deep cracks? How do we, as a family, edge around that deep chasm within our very heart? Why is Yitzy not running down the stairs on the way to one of his many activities, be it a baseball game, a meeting with a friend, going to school, sharing a moment with a sibling, reading a book along with his mom, off on one of their beloved nature walks with his father, wrestling with his brother or playing a game with his sisters. Or praying with deep devotion, wearing his beloved black hat. The energy and joy of life, in life were evident, so bright, so heartwarming and now, now, where the hell are they?
Yet there it is. A reality so surreal, so unfathomable. Where is the right path to follow now? How do we find it? How do we remain on it? Will it help heal or at least lessen the sharpness of the agony, of the gaping wound in our lives? A most unhealable of wounds.
Personally, I am seeking that road myself, suffused with anger and grief. So much so that the words of comfort, of reassurance, of faith and acceptance, all well-meant, are falling on deafened ears and an unreceptive heart. The rabbis with whom I have spoken reassure me that acceptance will come, that my anger is good, even expected. That anger means I am in discussion and relationship with the One Above. Humpf! Presently our communication is rather limited, stiff at best.
The road ahead is long and hard. There will be advances and backsteps, but the hope is that we all will find the way, separately and as a family. How, when, the timing and success remain unknown, but the hope must be there.
The notes and donations to the Torah for Yitzy are heartwarming and we thank you all, appreciate them, and will cherish them even more as time goes on. To respond individually is difficult and cannot promise that I, myself, or any of us, will be able at present certainly, to respond to each person individually, but know that we heard your words, as we read them, and thank you for those very same words and the spirit in which they are meant.
Yitzchok Elimelech, we miss you so.
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