My son is missing
There are days when I can answer the question
“How are you?”, with “fine” and really mean it...
Shirel married Itamar, We finally moved into our new home
Routine finds its place, slowly slowly within the day to day,
What varies is the insight
That tremendous joy can be experienced within the enormity of grief.
The pictures in the video presentation don’t change
What varies is the melody
I have learned that the reservoir of tears is endless – always with the same taste
What varies is the intensity of their flow.
I think I have internalized the fact that Gil-Ad will never return
What varies is our day to day reality, our point of view
Like a new born baby, or wounded man, we are learning how to walk again
What varies is our energy and spirit for all of this.
Time sometimes loses the meaning it once had
What varies is the content, the language
The words we find to express ourselves
The bereavement, the loss, accompany us every day with every step we take
What varies is the understanding
That its possible to live a full life
Despite all this, along with this…
The threshold of my sensitivity is lower, sometimes my nerves are raw and exposed
Impatient with the trifles of life
What varies is my understanding not to be afraid of this
I try to breathe slowly
What varies is the rhythm of my breathing from time to time
The masseuse tries to release the pain and tension in my muscles
She asks what’s with my diaphragm
What does not vary is the hole which refuses to be filled
The soul which refuses to be comforted
I am more in tune with myself, the complexity of life allows both pain and joy
To exist within me, side by side
What does not vary is the infinite longing
Still crying in prayer, still crying.
Still missing my son