The more I 'know' the more I realize how little I know. Unfortunately, as the grandmother of a boy who lies in a hospital bed dying of that miserable thing known as cancer, I have learned at great cost how little all our vaunted medicine, its advances, its boasted promising research possibilities, how little hope it actually offers. That in less than a year a child can go from a sore throat to imminent death is not acceptable. Not in a world which has such ability and capacity, so much brain power available as well as funding possibilities. No, instead we choose to allot those funds to be diverted into arms and ammunition, to ever more frightfully expensive war machines, capable of laying civilization dead in its tracks. Why? Because we endorse violence, gleefully enable hatred to flourish and then cry crocodile tears over the horror resultant. Selfish goals of wealth, of hate, of genocidal thoughts and goals are allowed, even encouraged, to reign supreme and all the while the true needs of civilization go neglected, even as we endanger our very survival on a greatly challenged world itself.
Do we need defense expenditures? Absolutely, especially in such a hostile world as ours. One can only wonder if some other beings are out there in space looking upon us, astounded at our immense self-destructive trends, at our brutality, our rampant domineering stupidity and selfishness. How can such advanced cultures with amazing future possibilities possess, even nurture, an inability to look beyond, to delve deeper and finally, grow up and stop playing deadly schoolyard games? Or is it, much to our gross shame, that we actually foster this debased atmosphere, for their own selfish reasons and desires. More and more, I believe this is the actual causation of our twisted ways taken as a civilization, purposely or accidentally at times, opting for the wrong turn at the crossroads, blind to the dangers ahead. Yes, here be monsters, but only when we arrive, for we are the monsters.
Am I bitter now? Absolutely! Wondering why my Yitzy, that golden child, bright, a gifted athlete, so beloved, is dying, at age 13. Hurting, not understanding what has happened, what is going on and what will happen next. Why has he deserved this, why is G-d so angry with him?
The answers are not to be found here, today, and the thoughts on these issues lead only to more feelings of abandonment and despair, situations so awful, so full of pain and anguish, as I have seen too many of my friends face these past few years. These are the questions asked by all of us as we each, in turn face the unacceptable yet where can we go to find answers? Other than a miracle, I am at a loss of advice, of hope and I shudder at the pain and anguish, Yitzy, confused, not understanding the why and wherefores, must feel. Hopefully, he will not understand what awaits, for surely, he will come back, as he has done over this past year's voyage into horror.
How could he possibly make any sense of this, for there is no sense to it. No right. Nothing but bad and all attempts to explain away, to justify even, they are dust in the wind at this point. For me and for many others. Faith, forever demanding a trust in it, we are told, will carry us through. I yield to Yitzy here for his faith, amazingly strong, always, remains. But where has faith brought us?
Faith and trust in the advanced medicines? In the vast knowledge of doctors and researchers? Faith that life cannot be so wrong, so unjust? Where does one turn for comfort, for survival in such times? Yes, I am astounded by the selfless actions of so many good people, praying, providing meals, places to stay, transportation, shoulders to lean on and chests to cry into, to merely sit in silence with you. It is amazing and I, as does the entire family, feel a huge gratitude and Hakarot Hatov to you all.
Even so, I find myself inconsolable, angry. A tumbleweed in an ugly vista with no end, no escape, nothing but dreariness and ugliness. Bereft in a sea of tears, salty and bitter. Alone in terrifying uncertainty. Grandparents, parents, do not bury a child or grandchild. Surely that is anathema to the scheme of things, the order of life. Apparently not. And yes, while in my head I know life does go on, the sharp pains and pangs of memory, of such overwhelming loss eventually do fade a bit, I cannot hear that now, nor fathom any truth contained within those assurances, unable to persuade my heart to open itself to comfort. Not now and not for a long time.
Not unless that miracle, so befitting the time of the miracle of Chanukah, takes place. So much better than a third beloved member of the family dying during this holiday.
Dear G-d, I pray to you in a fog of confusion, a deep challenge of my faith - heal Yitzy. Return him healed, to rise from the bed he is in, return him to his grieving parents, awaiting the unacceptable, a life shattering blow. Heal Yitzy, for he is a monument to faith, a golden boy apparently too good for this world. You want him, but we also want him, so much, so very deeply, bottomless a want, a longing beyond the power of words to express. Think of the faith restored and strengthened should Yitzy have a complete remission, to take up an adult role of benefit to humanity. Think of that, G-d, up there in your Heavens. Think of the good a miracle would mean to so many round the world.
The 85th anniversary of the Kindertransport and still we have our children endangered, killed, destroyed and left alone in misery. Is it not time to change that. Please.
All, reading this, please continue the prayers, to reach G-d's ears and heart.
Heal Yitzy. Please, I plead. With every iota within me. With every tear I own.
No comments:
Post a Comment