Warning: graphic image included in this post.
Grief so deep...
usatoday.com
Today, as I do every Tuesday, I was sitting with a man who is dying.
Each week I volunteer at Hospice House, and I have had the honor (and it is truly, the greatest honor) of sitting with several people just before they die… a few, on their last day of life. Today I was sitting with a wonderful gentleman who accepts that his cancer is “everywhere,” and he doesn’t want to go through any more treatment. He’s an incredible man: wise, charming, funny and sharp. He likes me, and I like him, so I make extra time for him each time I’m there. I’m not sure which one of us gets more out of this arrangement; I know it means the world to me… this sacred time we share.
Today, however, was different. As I was standing there talking to him, the news was on in the background, muted, so that we could talk. Slowly I realized that the words “Breaking News” kept flashing across the screen, along with images of ambulances and people running around. I was engaged, tuned out of the news and these things… but then, an image seemed familiar. The street on the TV looked like one I’ve seen… and then I saw the words, “Terrorist attack on synagogue in Jerusalem!” My twenty-four year old daughter lives in Jerusalem. It is not a large city, so anything that happens in Jerusalem, is too close for comfort in this mother’s eyes.
I couldn’t help it; terror grabbed me and I excused myself abruptly. “George (not his name), I’ll be right back!” I rushed to my purse, stored in the front cabinet, tears rising and struggling to breath easily– hoping to find a text message from my daughter. I felt an old, familiar panic rising in my chest. This is not the first time I’ve feared for my oldest child’s safety, in a city so far from me. There was no message, and my heart raced faster.
Admittedly, I also felt a moment of self-recrimination. This should be easier at this point. My girl has lived in Israel, off and mostly on for nearly three years now. She has told me dozens of times that the media exaggerates things. “I’m fine, Mom;” I could almost hear her saying. I was at work, in a place where others rely on me to bring comfort. I had to pull it together. George smiled when I returned and asked if my girl was ok. I shrugged, and told him that I wasn't sure, but guessed that she was. We talked about the Middle East, and his views on Netanyahu. We pretended everything was ok, even though he is dying and I was worried about my daughter's safety.
Sometimes, perspective is everything.
It should be easier... But my mother’s heart was racing. Scary thoughts swirled in my head. She became an Israeli citizen this past September. All but one of those murdered today had dual Israeli- U.S. citizenship. She is not a militant or politically motivated. Those murdered today were in a synagogue, bowed in prayer; they were not in a settlement or at a demonstration. My daughter is Jewish. Each of the men brutally murdered today were Jews.
It never gets easier; I’m a mother first.
There are times when I settle into a quiet acceptance of my daughter’s choice to live in a foreign country, far from her family and place of birth. I am proud that she has such strong convictions and passions that she would live so far away, in order to live a life that fills her– spiritually, aesthetically, ideologically. She has marched to her own drummer from the day she was born; as hard as it is, I respect and admire her for that. She is a Jew and Israel is the homeland of all Jews; she feels at home there.
Here in the U.S. my daughter has to search for kosher food and places to eat. She feels out of place; she stands out in her faith. She grew up in a town that consistently, EVERY year, schedules major sporting events and school tests on the day of the Jewish High Holy Days, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Ok, yes, I can hear you already: But there are so few Jews here! Should we observe every important holiday, in every faith? Point taken. But, should we observe EVERY important Christian holiday, just because that is the majority? I’ve heard people go on and on because a soccer game was scheduled on Mother’s Day! Hello? Really? As a mom, I hate having soccer games on my one officially sanctioned holiday too, but it’s not exactly sacrosanct.
