I’m hoping to share these thoughts with other bereaved parents, particularly those of the Jewish faith, though I welcome all readers.
Our son, Sholom Bnayahu, was the victim of a hit and run accident on the second night of Chol haMoed Succos / the evening of October 5, 2009. He was walking to the home of one of an older brother, accompanied by his younger sibling, Aharon. Aharon was, thank G-d, unhurt. Sholom’s injuries were fatal.
In the ensuing weeks, I looked for an assurance that Sholom is “okay.” Truthfully, I “knew” from the moment that he left us that he was in the best place possible. On the way to the funeral I told my wife that I knew he was going straight to Gan Eden / Garden of Eden. I could “feel/hear” Sholom telling me that he was okay. As a parent, I want to know that my children are in a good place. “Hearing his voice/feeling his presence” assuring me was a great source of comfort.
Inside, though, I am torn. I miss Sholom a great deal, even though he would have been away from home anyhow at Yeshiva (school). I miss his pre-Shabbos telephone calls. I miss hearing his voice. I miss his quiet presence in the house. I cry for the child whose future did not become what I thought it would be but, instead, is enjoying the world he has created for himself. My mourning is entirely self-centered, but we were created with the capacity for pain – and there is no greater pain than losing one’s child.
At this time, the most important thing I can do is to be inspired by his example and set achievable goals. Sholom actually left behind writings that indicate that he was doing just that. He had impressed the dean and teachers of the Yeshiva he attended with the specific skill of working on goals and not deviating from them, no matter what impediments stood in his way and what temporary setbacks he experienced.
I am writing this blog for two reasons. One is to share the many signs I have experienced that indicate that Sholom is all right. The second is to start setting goals for myself and achieve them. I am fifty-five years old and had already reached a stage of lethargy after a fairly active life even before Sholom died. I need to restart and recharge. Perhaps his life will inspire me to do so. Writing this blog on a regular basis may be a step in that direction.
For today, I am going to write one of the first, and possibly least significant of the messages I have received about Sholom:
On the night before Sholom’s death, I went with my wife to pick up a van we were borrowing from our daughter-in-law. On the way home, we both drove by a skunk which had been newly killed on South Lake Drive. I had never seen a skunk in our small town, though I have since heard that they are common.
On the morning of Hoshana Rabba, (the last day of the Jewish holiday of Succos) I went out to the back yard before leaving for services. In the half-light of dawn, I came face to face with a skunk. Of course I respectfully backed off as the skunk waddled off in the other direction. I just thought that this was interesting as the Hebrew word for skunk is “bo‘ash” which contains both the “beis” and the “shin,” the initial consonants in Sholom B’nayahu’s name. It was also the morning of Hoshana Rabbah, again bearing “beis” and the “shin.” But more significantly, I saw the dead skunk on the night before Sholom’s death and the live one a couple of days after he was buried. It seemed to be saying that while his body no longer functioned, he still lived.
I now it sounds silly, but I just thought I’d write it down. What happened the next night was not silly at all, but I’ll leave that for my next post.
