A New Sunrise: One Man's Inspirational Journey from Surviving the Trauma of Terrorism to a Life of Meaning and Purpose by Jacob Kimchy

Author:Jacob Kimchy [Kimchy, Jacob]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Kimchy Press
Published: 2015-08-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

A Ray of Light

Eventually, our friends and relatives went back to the lives they had left. My own friends went back to the army, to work, to school, to their families. Pazit went back to her house, focusing her attention on her husband and children. But my mother, Moshe, and I were just lost in the apartment that now seemed so big and so empty. Where was everyone? Where was my father?

The three of us watched TV from time to time, mostly the news. We talked about the state of affairs in Israel and wondered how we could possibly continue to live with terrorism infecting our daily lives, such a vicious disease. We talked about my father quite a lot—about what to do with his belongings, his papers, how much we missed him.

We talked about what we had learned after his death — that my father didn’t always charge his clients. He might write down what fare he was owed, but he never went back to collect it. We talked about the fact that it was never about the money to him; it was always about the people and the fact that he was so happy to be out working and interacting in the community again.

We talked and talked. But we managed to avoid the single biggest issue that terrified each of us: Now what?

Now what? What would life look like without my father? We had absolutely no idea.

I felt exactly what Moshe had expressed to me during the shiva: My father had always been my rock, my foundation. Without his support, his wisdom, his strong arms around me, what was holding me up? The answer was that nothing was holding me up, nothing was holding all of us up. And I was terrified. It felt as if I had stepped into a new and completely unfamiliar country — not understanding the language, not knowing anyone, filled with all questions and no answers. There was no respite from the pain. Not during the day. Not at night.

And yet, I never spoke to Moshe about this. Other than the one shiva afternoon in his bedroom, he never spoke to me about it, either. It might have helped us to talk about these terrifying feelings we shared. It might have helped Moshe to know he wasn’t alone in his fears. It could have been comforting for each of us to have had one person with whom we could be honest and acknowledge the true depth of our pain. But it never happened.

Moshe eventually went back to work and tried to seem as normal as possible, putting on a brave face and pushing himself forward. I put my brave face on, too. I wanted to be strong, and I believed it was expected of me as the best way to support my brother and mother. The three of us all worked so hard to keep our pain inside. It was absolutely exhausting.

My friends did everything they could to support me. They called, they texted, they emailed, they came by to keep me company.

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