Yom HaZicharon (Israeli Remembrance Day) and Yom HaAtzmaut (Israeli Independence Day) always fall back to back. On the afternoon leading into Yom HaZicharon stores close early. At 8:00 pm the memorial air raid sirens blare across the country. Across the country, people come to a stand-still. Even cars travelling on the highways stop in order to stand for the moment of silence in memory of the 23,000 men, women and children who have died in the last 66 years. Some have died in battle, some have died as soldiers carrying out their duties to protect the country and others have died as victims of terrorist attacks who happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
At 11:00 am the next day, the memorial siren blares one more time. As the sun begins to set once again the mood of the country changes. Yom HaAtzmaut night is filled with concerts, fire works and other celebrations. The next day the parks are filled with people celebrating what I like to refer to as National BBQ Day. Friends and family get together to celebrate.
It has been over 3 years since we lost Gabi. I have now gone through this annual ritual 4 times since her loss, twice while my wife Rachel was still alive. The first year we had not been paying attention to the calendar. One day Rachel decided to get on a bus to go to the Kotel (Western Wall) in Jerusalem for a spiritual pick me up. She was already in her 3rd month of what would be a 22 month battle with depression. We ended up attending the National Ceremony that takes place on Yom HaZicharon night. Rachel was determined to take the simplest lesson of the day. Yom HaZicharon is for the dead and Yom HaAtazmaut is for the living. One day for Gabi. One day for Channah (our daughter who was 7 at the time). She made every effort with all the strength she had to make the time of celebration a happy time for Channah.
Some years it makes the news and some years it doesn’t. There are a group of families who have been petitioning the Government for a day in between these two significant days. They say it is too hard for them to shift to the celebrations and festivities that come such a short period of time after they have once again experienced an intense period of mourning. My heart goes out to these families. The challenges they face cannot be easy.
Without a doubt I have been through a lot: battling infertility, supporting a wife on 5.5 weeks of hospital bed rest, father of a preemie born at 31 weeks and her 6 week journey in the NICU…being father to a stillborn after a very unexpected, very difficult and joyful pregnancy; being the supporting spouse in a battle with depression while undergoing fertility treatment, a widower, a single parent, a second marriage as I start to rebuild my life. As the foundation of my new life starts to set in, I find myself starting my own battle with depression. The dichotomy of these two days speaks to me as the definition of life.
When we are in the midst of our own joy and celebration, it is easy to forget those around us who are struggling. It is important to be sensitive and understanding to those around us while remaining joyful. When Gabi’s loss was still very fresh, I remember how grateful we were to those friends who took the extra few minutes to send us a note that news of a pregnancy or childbirth were about to go up on Facebook. It gave us the option to decide if we could handle the news and filter it out before it was in our face. I also remember when battling infertility, where people where so into superstitions to help us get pregnant, that they would go as far as embarrassing us for the opportunity to feel like they were helping out.
The first lesson is easy. The second is much harder. We must learn how to put our own personal sadness and grief aside to be joyful with others. When grief is still fresh and ripping a hole in your heart, this is not possible. In fact, Jewish Law prohibits joining in celebrations while still in the category of a mourner. As time goes on, we must heal, grow and learn how to be happy again. My heart aches for the families that losses are so painful they are not ready to make the transition from sadness and remembering to the joy that comes afterwards. I hope they will eventually gain the strength to be able to once again make that transition.
For the last 3 years I have been unwilling to attend any kind of celebrations around the birth of other children. My hope was that my absence would go unnoticed or be chalked up to regular day to day activities that prevents one from attending such events. I don’t know if it went unnoticed or not but nobody has ever expressed any sentiments towards my absence. When I got married in December I had friends and family go through great efforts to join in the celebrations and make the first step in rebuilding my life extra special.
When the time comes, I plan to be able to once again join in their celebrations.
{Your Thoughts}