As of last night, Sholom has been gone for 91 days. I miss him more now than when he first left us and I still cry, though not always in the same way, certainly not at the same time of day. I cry for different reasons now than I did thirteen weeks ago.
Some of my crying is about the things that I will miss. It is said that when a parent dies, one mourns the life that was lived. When a child dies, one mourns the life that could have been. There is some of that in me, too, but I think I cry the most – at least internally – is when I visualize him lying in a pool of blood on Cedarbridge Road. How frightened was he when the car hit him? How long was he conscious? How long was he in pain?
The accident occurred at about 7:45pm and his death certificate says the time of death was at 8:15pm. In our terms, he “lingered” for half an hour. But what went through his consciousness in those thirty minutes?
Aharon, his younger brother who was just a few steps ahead of him on the road – and therefore, thank G-d, was spared injury – said that he heard a “thunk” and, when he turned around, Sholom just wasn’t there. It was dark already, and he couldn’t see down the road clearly. But he did say that he “saw a light and went to it” and saw his brother’s body lying there.
I will write in other posts, G-d willing, about the references we have to Sholom and his life that are found in the book of Tehillim (Psalms). I have written in another post about Sholom’s last d’var Torah (Torah idea) and its reference to Zayis Ra’anan – the fresh olive. There are so many references in Tehillim to olives, to olive oil and, by extension, to light. Sholom’s life was a light to others, both while he was alive, and in his passing.
And, as such, I can only conceive of his soul shining in Heaven, glowing in his achievements on the earthly plane of existence. In his leaving this world, his light merged with the Heavenly light that summoned him to eternal existence. I envision this when that last view of him intrudes upon my mind.
Did Sholom “see a light,” too? People who have gone through “near death experiences” say that they were drawn to a light. When I have a moment now, feeling the panic and pain of Sholom’s last moments, I start to cry. Sometimes it is just my heart that cries, and sometimes I feel the tears coming out of my eyes. But about two weeks ago, I began replacing that image – the one of my son vaulting through the air, crashing onto the pavement and blanking out – with a new vision. I see his soul separating from his body, drawn to the light of the real world, reconnecting with our Father in heaven. I see him as a beautiful young man, standing in awe of the light and then walking toward it, turning away from the body he left behind. There is no pain, only serenity, as eternal salvation enwraps him as he approaches his Maker. G-d embraces him and and draws him close – as only He, the omnipresent Father, can do.
And then, my son, because a parent only wants the best for the child, I am comforted.
