As Purim approaches, thousands of Israeli children and families grapple with poverty
I have been promising myself that I would write about the death of my twins when I was ready. Ever since that fateful day more than 11 years ago, I have tried to write, dozens of times, but my attempts have drawn many tears and very few words. I tried again very recently, but didn’t get very far. And then the school shooting in Newtown changed everything.
While we all pray that nothing like this ever happens again, these events affect me in a very profound way. My wife could see it coming. From the moment the news broke until Shabbos started, I was glued to the television. Visions of children suffering and dying were my first thoughts. Those were quickly followed by a profound sense of sorrow and empathy. While the immediate pain is the most intense, long after the news cameras are gone and people start to view the massacre as just another tragic day, the parents of 20 children will be left with unimaginable pain.
I feel that pain. As guilty as I may feel that the intensity of the pain has subsided over the years, and I have allowed other things to occupy my thoughts, it doesn’t take much to bring me back to those horrific moments. I knew I wouldn’t get much sleep, and I prepared to welcome the return of my nightmares that Friday night. They aren’t as frequent as they used to be, but it never takes much to bring them back in full force.
No matter how many years pass, when uncovered, the wounds are still fresh and deep. We all feel their pain now, but understand that long after people start to forget what the name of that school in New England was called, the parents will have to keep on living without the most vital part of their lives.
Many parents who have lost children feel that loss most intensely at every should-have-been milestone. A deep sense of longing, isolation and loss accompany every would-have-been birthday, siddur play and lost tooth. Why was this taken from me? Was there anything I could have done? Did they die knowing how much I love them? Am I being punished? What could we possibly have done to deserve this? Unexpected loss raises so many questions and there are no answers.
The parents in Newtown are asking the same questions. What if we decided to take the day off? What if I hadn’t asked that he be switched to another class? Am I a failure as a parent because I couldn’t protect my child?
We had a future that will no longer be. All the visions, the birthdays, the flu, the weddings, the scraped knees, the grandchildren, the failures and the triumphs are gone – unexpectedly, in an instant. There is never a sense of understanding and there cannot be acceptance, and without understanding and acceptance it is nearly impossible to move on.
I know the situations and circumstances for my children are very different. I am not a fan of people’s desire to determine which situation is worse. Suffice it to say, there is no pain in this world comparable to that of a parent who loses a child.
In addition to the cruel reality of a lifetime without my children, I have been told that my children never really existed by more people than I can count. You see, my children passed away an hour after their birth. I have been told to get over it. I have been told how the death of children was an everyday part of life in Europe. I have been told that I couldn’t possibly have bonded with them, and I have no memories of happy times to haunt me. I have even been asked if I regret my decision to see them struggling before they died.
I usually ignore such comments, but on occasion I will ask if I was or was not a father for the hour I held my children while they died, desperately trying to find some way to express how much I loved them and how sorry I was that I couldn’t save them.
I tell them that I would have given anything in the world for the opportunity to watch them grow and truly express my love for them in a way that I know they could understand. The truth will always be that if given the choice, I would still give my life in an instant so that they could live.
About the Author: Chaim Shapiro, M.Ed is a freelance writer, public speaker and social media consultant. He is currently working on a book about his collegiate experience. He welcomes comments and feedback at firstname.lastname@example.org or on his website: http://chaimshapiro.com/
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‘Double Gold’ awarded to 2012 Yarden Heights wine & 2011 Yarden Merlot Kela Single Vineyard.
One should not give the money before Purim morning or after sunset.
The mishloach manos of times gone by were sometimes simple and sometimes elaborate, but the main focus was on the preparation of the delicious food they contained.
Jews, wake up! Stop educating the world and start educating yourselves.
The lessons conform to the sensitivities and needs of the Orthodox community…
The program took on special significance as it marked not only the first anniversary of Rebbetzin Kudan’s levayah but also the 27th yahrzeit of Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka Schneerson, a”h.
It captures the love of the Jewish soul as only Shlomo Hamelech could portray it – and as only Rabbi Miller could explain it.
Erudite and academic, drawing from ancient and modern sources, the book can be discussed at the Shabbos table as well as in kollel.
I’m here to sit next to you and help you through this Purim with three almost-too-easy mishloach manot ideas, all made with cost-conscious paper bags.
Kids want to be like their friends, and they want to give and get “normal” mishloach manos stocked with store-bought treats.
Whenever he did anything loving for me, I made a big deal about it.
“OMG, it’s so cute, you’re so cute, everything is so cute.”
Just a few months ago, I was having a difficult time getting a refund for a missing product processed via the customer service call center at a major retailer. After spending hours on hold and having my request denied, I sent a Tweet to the company’s Twitter account.
We had suffered through an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. My wife had to go through labor and deliver our children to their deaths, and I was unable to save them or even give them a little warmth while they died.
Special Note: It is an unusual phenomenon that many bereaved parents share. We can almost see our age-adjusted children in our sukkah or running up to us during a family simcha. As quickly as they come, those visions seem to disappear as we go through the life cycle. They are hard moments made harder by the thoughts of not only what could have been, but what should have been.
I had to believe that things were going to be ok. They just had to be ok. We had gone through so much, had sacrificed so much and were doing everything the doctors told us to do. I remember speaking to a hesitant professor in my Ph.D. program about getting an incomplete in her class. The conversation stands out in my mind because, looking back, I can see how odd it must have seemed as I matter-of-factly told her I was too busy for coursework because my twins’ amniotic sack was bulging through my wife’s cervix.
On our first day in the antepartum unit, one of the nurses mentioned how critical every moment of pregnancy really was. “One minute in is worth two minutes out (in an incubator).” We weren’t really expecting a premature birth, but her comment put a fine point on the importance of the care my wife was receiving.
The best way to describe our emotions the morning of our major ultrasound was nervous excitement. We had survived a serious scare with a threatened miscarriage a few weeks prior. My wife was on bed rest at home, but we had no real reason to assume there would be any new problems.
It was only after we celebrated the great news that we were expecting twins that we saw the first sign of problems. First of all, my wife was losing, not gaining weight, even as the babies continued to grow normally. Soon after, routine blood work revealed that my wife was suffering from gestational diabetes.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/family/from-the-greatest-heights/2013/01/17/
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