The 30

Although I have no idea how the time has passed so quickly, it has already been more than 30 days since my son, Negev was killed in Lebanon. It still seems unreal and somewhere in the back of my mind, I still think some one has made a mistake and that Negev will arrive home soon. I guess it helps in some way to make the pain easier to bear. If I live somewhat in denial, then reality doesn't really have to hit so hard.

This has been a journey, to say the least. I wrote about the shiva week because I was blown away by all that happened and all that I learned in one small, yet potent week. Now that more time has passed and more things, information, pictures, events, stories and feelings are beginning to settle and fall into place, I can sit back and observe and try to make some sense out of everything so far.

For the "30", we had evening prayers, a meal and then the next morning we returned to the cemetery. It has been a whirlwind month. Non stop visitors, protocols, meetings, and new beginnings. Now that this month has come to a close, things have begun to slow down and the next event will happen only on his yartzheit in one year. Now is when the things will begin to become real. When we have the time to really sit with our new reality and let it sink in to our bones.

Arriving at the cemetery in the morning, I was reminded of Negev's funeral just 30 days before. All of his friends and family came. But this time his team of soldiers who were with him when he died were also here. We began at the cemetery at 10 am. After the service, after the speeches, including mine, the songs and the hanging out together at the kever, we came back to our house and the soldiers and Negev's friends sat down and Shalom's family to drink and eat and sign Negev's memorial book. That day, like so many others this past month, seemed to be so filled with love, sharing, emotions , deep conversations, whirlwind of changes, hugs, highs and lows that it seemed almost impossible that when they left it was only 2 pm. How could so much be fitted into one day?? Into one month? It really couldn't be less than a year, it seems. But this is our new reality. Hashem makes time stop in these situations. We are operating on a new form of energy, in another dimension. It's like the world stands still when these kinds of things happen and gets faster with everything else.

This is my 30th year of living in Israel. Over the course of this last month the number 30 has resurfaced over and over for me. A friend decided to look it up and see what the significance of 30 might be. The answer is, " powerful sign of spiritual maturity, divine timing, and new beginnings." So I guess that makes sense for all that is happening. I have set apart an Evening for Negev on the 30 of every month. So that once a year, it will fall on his birthday, May 30. Inside the "30" days felt like emotional growth, but physical stagnation. Once the 30 was over, there is a new energy to move things, make change, open boxes, plant gardens. The next stage has been put into action. Of course it will all happen in it's own time. The energy is moving slowly, but moving forward, most of the time.

Negev served in Lebanon and Gaza with a team of soldiers. Since Negev's death, these soldiers have not been released from their duties in Lebanon. They have moved forward as they push further into Lebanon keeping northern Israel safe from being targeted. They move into other villages, live in evacuated homes and continue to advance. But they have not had a break from war for months. They have lost more friends since Negev, but they continue to hold their ground, despite the losses. They constantly blow my mind. They finally did get out , just before the "30" and when they did, they came straight down to us. They came to tell their stories, talk about Negev and share their love for him.

I described how Negev was hit by shrapnel in my last blog, what I didn't know was that that same morning, he went for a swim in the Litani river. I talked at length about Negev some how or on some level, knowing his time was coming. So his swim opens another level of acceptance to his destiny. The house they had moved into was situated just on the edge of the LItani River. The soldiers have many pictures of them posing with the river at their backs. But these pictures are of the guys in full army gear. Vest, helmets, guns, knee pads, boots, camaflouge ... head to toe armor. They knew they didn't have much time to spend outdoors because of the constant barrage of suicide drones and bombs being sent over to wipe them out. But Negev was adamant about going for a swim in the river that morning. A few of his friends joined him in the water. A swim means to strip off all of your gear down to your skin and get in the freezing, rushing river. They filmed it. Despite the danger and the absolute rule by their commanders of not going in the river, Negev wanted one last mikve to prepare himself for his reunion with Hashem.. It was his cleansing before his elevation. You can see from the pictures that the other soldiers took of him, that he didn't go in for fun. He was very serious, even heavy while in the water. It wasn't a joy swim. It was a necessary immersion for his soul.

When the soldiers came, they also talked about the soldier who was killed the day after Negev. The suicide drones come mostly during the day. So most of the work outside is done at night. But despite his knowledge and the warnings from the other soldiers, this man went outside to work in broad daylight. He was hit. So I can probably guess, he also knew where to be and when ,and nothing could stop him from accepting his destiny. I have come to understand this from these warriors. They have a 6th sense and they know what they are born to do and when it is time for them to accept the ultimate mission.

After talking to so many of these soldiers who have spent so much of these last 3 years ensconsed in war, I think they have come to an acceptance of such things. I am always trying to figure out where their energy, dedication and ability to continue come from ,despite all the death and hardship surrounding them. As I am listening to their stories and looking into their eyes, I have begun to get a glimpse into their world.

From the outside, it all looks hopeless. Our government policies and army brass seem to have no plan of action, no target and a constant appeasement of our enemies. We are sticking to a worn out , out-dated version of war that no longer works. Yet they refuse to re-evaluate and pivot their strategies. So our enemies have taken advantage of our obvious weaknesses and our need to play by the book. They have outmaneuvered us, continue to murder our boys and girls and are still rewarded by a policy of weak retaliation. The frustration of the nation's people, especially the parents of these soldiers, has been wearing thin to the point of breaking.

And yet, our soldiers continue to do the job they believe in. Something happened to this generation of warriors during Oct 7 that changed them forever. Before Oct 7, we had a never ending political war. After Oct 7, the intent became obvious to almost everyone. It is no longer just politics and money exchanging hands. This is an outright spiritual war: as above, so below. The means used against us has become so all encompassing and like a wildfire raging out of control, so have our enemies rushed to assasinate Jews and Israel in every form, no matter the ceasefire (which just means we cease, they fire), character assasination, turning their crimes into ours, completely eliminatiing our side of the story, erasing our voice and our history, and deligitimitzing our indigenous rights to our God given land, traditions and religion.

So how is it that these soldiers are still so brave, self sacrificing and dedicated to the cause when the cause seems so hopeless? They have a kind of immunity. All the outside forces can't touch them. They are holy soldiers fighting for Hashem. The rest is irrelevant. (I am referring , of course to the outside evil forces. The internal ones are a whole nother story altogether. PTSD is real and it is mostly being ignored by those who should be helping the soldiers overcome their traumas. ) They have seen so much death, so many circumstances, so many miracles, near misses, had so many deep conversations, and seen a clear hand of God leading the way.... that they have come to see patterns. The way the weapon finds it's mark, even when it seems more than unlikely . And the way a soldier knows his time is drawing near. The signs are everywhere, not everyone is ready to see them.

During this time, I have felt that the dividing line between this world and the next is very near. A super thin curtain, just on the other side, but we don't have access to it. There is something about the death of a loved one that seems to bridge these two worlds . If we can have enough of an understanding to grasp that the two worlds are really connected, but unavailable as of yet to us, we can learn to recognize the signs. A butterfly, a bird, a dream, a specific word or phrase, a whisper in the wind, a light coming on , a license plate, a name in a book, the possibilites are endless and will be very personal to each individual... But once seen, they cannot be unseen. It is a gentle reminder that there is a world very close to ours that exists and does allow for communication. If we can understand this concept and accept it's existence, we can rest better knowing that our loved one is still here, still available, still trying to get our attention to show us that they are still with us. What a relief to feel their presence. How comforting to know that they are not lost to us and that love transcends realms.

After the "30" we took Negev's phone out of the boxes and charged it. That was on Friday . On Sunday morning, at 8 am , I hear this crazy siren noise coming from somewhere. I'm looking everywhere for the source. My son says," it's Negev's phone ". And it was. That crazy loud siren alarm was the only thing that would get Negev up. Now it's Sunday morning and he is saying hello. Our friend Amy, had a blue light come on at home, just as she returned from the "30" and Negev's soldier friends unscrewed the light in their tent in order to turn off the light. As soon as they began talking about Negev, it came back on again. These little signs keep showing up. It's Negev reaching out, saying he's still here, still with us. Still available and just out of reach.

This is my new reality. Learning this new language and learning to use my 6th sense so that I don't miss the signs. When I said that Negev broke down the walls, and shook us out of our glass shelters, this is what I am referring to. I now see the world in an entire new light. Each day, I learn new things along this path, which open more doors to more opportunities. Negev held the key to these soul connections and I don't want to miss any available chances.

On the first or second night of the shiva, a couple came to talk to us. Their son was with Negev when he was hit by shrapnel. The information they gave me that night made my entire week.

When the same team of soldiers was released on a small break from Lebanon, I finally got to meet their son and hug him. He told the story of what happened and had pictures to show us where everyone was situated when the bomb struck. He took us through the entire few seconds that seemed to last much longer , telling us moment by moment what happened and how they reacted as fast as they could, not knowing if there were going to be more incoming attacks. In his mind , he relives the last moments of Negev smiling before being hit, the harrowing minutes afterwards. All the time holding Negev trying to hold him steady and keep him alive. Negev went unconscious immediately after being hit and he died on the way to the transport helicopter. This amazing soldier held his dear friend and gave all the love he had into talking to Negev, trying in vain to sustain his life. What a gift to be able to live with the fact that you were the one who held him while he left this world for the next. I gave birth to Negev. Brought him into this world as he left his old and transitioned into the new. Now this soldier did the same for Negev as he transitioned back into the next. This is incredible scut (honor) is also a curse because it keeps him up at night and leaves him traumatized to no end. But he has no time right now to spend his energy there. He is in the middle of a war, he wants to remember Negev and finish his mission. These soldiers live with their PTSD. It is not being addressed and it is taking it's toll. I pray they can find peace and rest whenever possible. They are the holiest of the holiest...

Another thing we are supposed to get used to is referring to Negev in the past tense. This is something I still can't get used to.. So for now, I still refer to him in the present. It still hasn't sunk in that he is not physically with us. Maybe it makes it easier to deal with everyday, just because I am still in a state somewhere between denial and acceptance. But at least once a day, the reality hits, and things get messy. Then I can find myself on the floor sinking into oblivion. I know of many bereaved parents or close friends who choose to take medication, alcohol or similar in these moments.

However difficult and heavy it is, I still choose not to numb the pain. I have been offered drugs to numb the intense feelings, alcohol to numb my presence in this world. Sleeping pills to get through the night. Even cannabis to help get me through the day. The pain is love that has broken down the walls. That love is real. When Negev was here physically, I choose to feel his love and my love for him. It's only fair to both of us that I recognize his love in his absence, however painful it might be now. It is still the same love, I chose not to ignore it's intensity. So I let it wash over me, reach out to those who understand what I am feeling and remember Negev in the moment. Only time will tell how this pain will soften or get worse . To describe the pain, for me it is a couple of sensations. One is a kind of nausea that doesn't go away. And the other is a kind of feeling of missing a limb. I used to feel whole, but now I feel like a part of me is missing . I can still function, but it's heavier and slower since I have to figure out how to move around without that piece. Sometimes things seem ok and life is moving along, then out of the blue it hits hard and takes over my whole body. It will begin with crying and end with a deep breath when it's over. When this happens, time stands still and I have to just let it move through me . It's not easy, but we learn how to live with the ebb and flow.

Another painful sensation that I think many of us experience is the fear that I will forget things about Negev. I'm constantly searching for memories, the sound of his voice things that we said or did together, or stories that I heard about him. What if they are forgotten? What if I missed something and it gets pushed back to somewhere where I can't recall it? What if his memory starts to slowly fade into the distance? I don't want that to happen, especially for his younger brothers who will grow up and not remember very much of Negev. It is a constant struggle to make sure it doesn't happen, but with time, I think it might be inevitable. I understand others when they choose to numb the pain with drugs, but I am not one to take them. My pain is personally attached to Negev, and I choose to be there with him.

A journey/ מסע has many meanings and depths attatched to it. These journeys will be different for everyone. They will be different each hour of every day. Sometimes we will carry others. Sometimes they will carry us. Sometimes it will feel all up hill. On easier days, we feel the wind at our faces as we allow ourselves to coast downhill . Sometimes the heaviness is overwhelming and sometimes we are able to find something or someone to lift us up for a short period. It's all a part of the journey: aliyah, ascent, yeridah, carrying, holding, The trick is to find the blessings and the lessons, grow from them and accept our new reality. Even if it's two steps forward and one step back.

I am slowly finding out where Negev spent his time when he was home. He was rarely given time to come home between serving in Gaza and Lebanon. But when he did come, he would have something to eat, do his laundry, sit and talk to us for awhile, wash his car, then he was off with his friends. But we had no idea what that meant. Sometimes they went to Tel Aviv, sometimes to the Forum in Beer Sheva, sometimes he just visited people and hung out talking. I am getting to know his haunts through conversations with friends and I am making it a point to visit these places in our area. His friends houses, meeting with his friend's moms, who have now become my friends, and listening to their stories of Negev. It's been a journey on so many different levels. It's a journey of discovery, of carrying the heavy load, of what I am bringing with me and what I am leaving behind, of learning about Negev and about myself and watching my children find their way as well. To journey is to carry, to lift up to find the truth and to face it. Meeting the people along the way who knew different parts of Negev than I knew and to put it all together to understand who he was and what he meant to people who knew him.

About two weeks after he died, the army brought over all of Negev's personal belongings in lidded plastic bins, labeled and numbered. There are six of them, containing all he had with him in the army, in his locker, in his bag and on his person. We have not opened them yet. These things take awhile to stand up to them, emotionally. So they are being stored in his room until we are ready to open them up.

A week before they brought these things, I still wasn't prepared to go into Negev's room. To see his things, his bed the way he left it, clothes he had bought, but never had the chance to wear them, everything still sitting in his room the way he left them before going once more back into Lebanon. Just after the shiva, I had a feeling I should go into his room, but I didn't think I could do it alone. Two of Negev's best friends volunteered to come with me. We sat on his bed and shared memories and talked for an hour or more. It gave me strength to have them there with me, basking in their love for him. There are so many of these little moments I hope I never forget how these kids got me through what felt like an avalanche trying to bring me down and bury me. But they held me up, held my hand, let me cry and talk and gave me strength to take one more step each day. I can say they literally saved my life when I felt like I was being swallowed by grief. I call them children, because they are the age of my children, but they are wise beyond their years . They are empathetic, caring, responsible, and they have taken the burden of caring for everyone around them while we all have our ups and downs. Our good days and our no so good days. They are there without fail for us , for each other and for the soldiers. They show up each time with hearts full of love and understanding. I've never seen anything like it. Thank God for them and for Negev for bringing them into our lives through his love for all of us.

I've noticed similar conversations coming up over this past month. One big topic is our fear of death. It seems to filter across borders and is an underlying concern in disease and our ultimate potential. Death is absolutely unavoidable , yet we rarely discuss the possibility nor are we ever prepared for it when it happens. In Judaism we have entire books dedicated to prayers, traditions, beliefs and scheduled memorials. Yet we still have difficulty accepting it's inevitability. As if we expect to live forever and just push it's existence to the perifery of our minds where it remains in the shadows. Other religions , such as Buddhism, teach that death is a part of life and they spend their years preparing for it's coming, so that when it happens, it's just another respected stage of the cycle. No fear, just acceptance. I believe Judaism is also set up to , not just accept death as a part of life, but we believe that when Mashiach comes, the tzadikkim will be resurrected and we will join our loved ones again... However our society still likes to push the idea of death to the taboo file. Just as Jews love life and are commanded to save lives when possible, we should also make room for death as an integral part of our soul's journey. If we can recognize the burden we are commanded to carry, by helping and supporting each other in each moment, we can move through all the stages with grace and love, rather than fear. I don't have the answers, it's just been a topic that's come up over and over and I feel it deserves some attention.

Just as our birth is written, so is the day and time of our death. Each year at Yom Kippor, our destiny for the coming year is sealed. Who will live, who will have health, wealth, poverty, sickness, challenges, and who will die. Some can say if we avoid this and this, we will be ok. But that is a wrong assumption. We never know when it is our time. Only Hashem knows. When it is our time, it is our time. I'm not saying to play Russian roulette with your life, but I think we have less control over it than we think we do. Hashem can make, cancel or reschedule our lives , but we each have a contract and our time is scheduled. It is said that our soul knows 30 days before it happens. These soldiers do not run from it. They accept and they take on their destiny without hesitation. I have never seen anything like it. I don't think anyone ever has. And yet, when a young man signs up for the army as a warrior, he is signing up to be Hashem's soldier. They each know the risks, but they also each understand their role on a much larger scale. It is a decision that holds a lot of weight. Weight they are each prepared to take on. I give each one of them my fullest respect and I hold them in the highest honor of serving their Jewish nation . Their parents come next by giving their blessing to their children and the the many sacrifices they are willing to make.

Another big topic is how to approach someone who has to deal with the death of a loved one. Many people feel very uncomfortable and so shy away from any contact. Many close friends stop keeping in touch just because they aren't sure what to say or how to act around their bereaved friends. Many of us have lost friends and people either don't come to visit, or the bereaved friends are not invited over. So it leaves a gaping lonely hole where there should be community and support. My best advice is, if you don't know what to say, you don't need to say anything. Instead, give a big, long hug. Hold the person. Many words can be expressed in that hug. Not always we have to think of something to say. But just being there. Just sitting with this person is enough. We get used to silence. It doesn't need to be filled with useless chatter. In fact, it 's sometimes nice to just sit and let the silence take up space. Each person left to their thoughts without any expectations. The pain will always be there, but sharing it with someone makes it a little easier to bear. Just the physical presence is enough to not feel alone. So although people want to either run and hide or fill the void with superficial gossip, the best support we can give is just to show up. A hug, a smile, a touch of the hand, herbal tea or a nourishing stew. It's really all that's required. And if you can't physically be near the person, prayers for their well being, for their children and for the soul of the departed is also an amazing way to connect , support and hold their grief with them.

Since Negev's death, there is a different kind of energy which seems to tap into a different part of my brain. I have less need of food and sleep. Perhaps this brings us closer to a meditative state. If not exactly meditative, at least transformational. It enables us to sort of tap into something else beyond the everday. It will affect everyone differently but there will be a different understanding apparent in one form or another.

The light has changed. The energy has changed. My energy has changed. My routines have changed. My social life has changed My perspective has changed. There is an extra depth to everything. An invisible bridge has been built. Two worlds have been connnected. I see this past month as a snapshot. Negev is 21, a soldier and in his grave. His friends and fellow soldiers are about to finish the army . They will grow up and leave us behind. It is time I also headed off on my own path. They won't always be here to babysit me. I don't want to be left behind, so I have to figure out where to go from here.  Friday at the askara, opened something, an invisible door or path. It showed me how much love there is, but that life still moves on. We all have to figure out what's next.   I don't feel like the same person I was before all of this happened. Negev woke me up, he changed the lens of the camera, and added the missing number to the combination. My vision was cloudy, now it is becoming clearer.

Seeing Negev from this new lense, I realize he is a mirror image of myself. He took all his looks from his abba, but the rest is me and, of course, his own individualtiy. That makes me so proud , and although, he might not admit it, we both lived our lives according to our own rules. Negev had a fearlessness his friends and fellow soldiers commented on often. There are a few places this absence of fear came from. Being frightened of the unknown was never given too much thought for Negev. It was always more exciting to find out what was coming around the next turn to care too much if at all about slowing down. So looking back I see how Negev's earliest years at home built a strong foundation, both physically and mentally for him to feel confident enough to explore the world farther afield, dive in head first and face the consequences later. Whenever he was given an opportuntiy, he would give back to the best of his ability. All of my kids were raised to be independently minded.

They know early on how to build with their hands, fix things, cook, come up with an alternative on the fly when needed. They are never afraid of hard work or learning new things.

I encouraged them to try new things, make mistakes , find solutions, clean up and try again. Negev really came into his own as he joined the army and all of his various complexities began to meld together to create his amazing personality.

In various podcasts and blogs and discussions, I have mentioned the importance of masculinity for men . It shapes our society and let's everyone know where they belong and what they are meant to be. Without it, things get confusing. Roles get reversed and lines get fuzzy. Negev was the embodiement of a man. One who knew who he is and what he wants. Not afraid of anything and super protective of those he loves. He was willing to give his life to defend his family and friends. He matured over time so that when he came home, I noticed his inner strength. The one that leads him to choose right over wrong. To be empathetic of those around him. He would have put his wife as his priority, if he had the opportunity to get married. He understood what a man was meant to do. To protect and to provide. To stand up and stay there. He knew where his place was in the world.

We say an "angel's heart and a devil's hand", which is the embodiment of a man. One who is a good person, knows the difference between right and wrong, yet he pushes boundaries and risks his life and limb for some mischevousness. He liked to have fun, but he always understood where to draw the line. But boundaries are meant to be pushed and lines are meant to be crossed. That's where Negev came in. He liked a challenge and to flex his muscles to see where it might take him. He was responsible and knew when to take things seriously. At the same time, he liked to mix things up and get the party started. So you could count on him, you could put your life in his hands and you still felt safe. He knew how to make women feel special. He was sensative without stepping out of his masculinity. This is what I raised them to be. Negev really picked up on it and embodied what a real man should be. It attracted men and women to him because his heart was always in the right place and he knew how to have a good time with the guys, while taking care of the women. He brought out the goodness in those around him because he felt comfortable in his own skin, so they felt comfortable to be their true selves as well. I hope Negev's brothers take this to heart and learn what he has to teach.

This past month of reflections has brought up many memories. One of them that many people don't know about is that Negev , at age 9, had a strange condition in his legs. First one leg , then both. The first time it happened , I was in the kitchen and Negev was in the front yard. I heard him yell for me and I went running outside to see him on the ground. He said his leg felt weak and thne just collapsed. We had to wait for it to pass before he could stand up again.

After that it happened every once in awhile. Then it became more frequent and then after his leg would get weak and collapse a seizure would start. Meanwhile, I was researching everything i could find and I tried everything. The doctors had no answers and were less than helpful, so I continued to search for answers myself. Eventually we ended up in the ER as he was having one seizure after another. The doctors declared him epilectic (even though the brain scan showed no such evidence) and wanted to give him mind altering psychoactive drugs. I refused and we left. I took Negev to a homeopath and began giving him the remedy, celery juice , in addition to all the other herbs and supplements he had been taking all year. As he ended his 9th year and turned 10, everything came to an end. I don't know if it was the remedy, the juice or if he just grew out of it. But its was over and it never bothered him again.

It was a scary year for Negev, but we never gave up and I helped and supported him through every episode. He got through it all without damaging psychoactive drugs and he saw me advocate for him all along the way.

Arriving at the cemetery in the morning, i was reminded of Negev's funeral just 30 days before. All of his friends and family came. But this time his team of soldiers who were with him when he died were also here.

This past month has been filled with ups and downs.. Each time we reach new heights. How is this possible? I can't describe how deep the suffering and the connection. I also can't describe how high it lifts me to share the same space with these soldiers. This is the power of real. This is what it is to be human. The highest and the lowest. The best and the worst. The "oketz and the dvash". God brings us to our knees before pulling us heavenward.

Why He insists on doing this, we'll never know. Maybe it makes the honey taste sweeter.

What I do know is that when something like this happens, it brings truth to the surface. it makes us real to one another. Death is a truth we cannot escape from. When faced with a truth so real and so final, we are forced to recognize the truth in everything else around us. It peels back the mask, smashes the distractions, and we are all put into a place where we see nothing but each other and what is the barest minimum of what is the most important in that moment. It transforms us forever. Even if the transformation wears off a little, after awhile, we are forever changed. When we get together again, we pull from that same source that brought us together in the first place. As long as we make the time to come together and share, we will always have this energy to tap into.

Negev will always be 21 and a soldier. He will remain young and beautiful. Hopefully, I will always remember him and his friends this way. Just on the cusp of finishing the army. Just before getting married, finding careers, moving out of the area, having children.. Right now Negev is the "hevel" connecting us all on a short rope. We feel the tension, we don't have any wiggle room. Each one is close to the other. But as time goes by and the group gets older, the rope will get longer and looser. We might not be so close, we might not feel Negev's pull as tight as it used to be. But I want to remember it now, how it is between us. How close everyone is. How Negev's absence is still so raw and emotional. The kids were all so innocent to this sort of thing. In one evening we gained our right of passage. We all moved up a level together, still holding hands.

Negev is my son, he's everyone else's brother. He will remain that way forever. For the entire month since his death, the latest trend in baby names is Negev. People who had never heard the name until it was connected with Negev, or those who knew him and plan on naming a child after him. It has become something of a phenomenon and has spread all over the country. Perhaps even beyond our borders. Once there was one Negev, now there are thousands. He died on the day of his brit mila, where he received his name. Now others are receiving his name on the day of their brit mila. And he continues. Always the new tied to the old. Always the future rooted in the past.

I have hardly said two words to my neighbors in the 23 years I have lived here. And now I am welcoming hundreds of people to our home, hugging, crying and sharing our pain openly to one another. I gave three impromptu speeches , some even in Hebrew, to hundreds of people at the cemetery over this past month.

When Negev was drafted into Hashem's army, my old world came crashing down. Immediately it was replaced with Negev's friends who he had hidden away from us. But now, they've become part of our family and opened my eyes to everything that was not quite right before. They brought life and love and conversation. They lifted us up and opened my heart that was closed for so long. I was having one on one deep conversations with these young people who gave me their time, respect and love. They reminded me of who I was and allowed me to return slowly over this past month. Just by sitting with me and asking me how I felt without judgment. There was no expectations, competitions, or rush. They wanted to be near Negev's mom, and I wanted to be near Negev's friends.

I began to shake off my layer of glass to reveal my old true self. Negev shook me to my core so that the old walls and tough skin peeled off layer by layer to reveal what I had buried so long ago. I felt all the symptoms of a stagnate lymph begin to circulate again with vigor. So much so that the morining of the "30" I started my period that I hadn't had for 8 months. How is that even possible? It seems anything is possible when we tap into the heart . As soon as I saw the blood, I realized I had tapped into something vibrant. Time was reversed a few years. I was tapping into the vitality of these younger people who were hanging around me , giving me their love and energy this past month. This morning's surprise just tied it all up together with a red bow. Happy birthday to my new self.

Now the question remains, What do I do with it? What do I do with this new found information and inspiration? Where do I take it? What directions does my life take from here? How do I make the most of it? How do I honor Negev, my kids, myself, these new people in my life ? And how do I navigate them all growing up and beginning their lives while mine is mostly behind me ? I imagine Negev will show me the way, just as he has up until now. I have a new found trust in his wisdom. He's brought us this far, made all these new connections and opened up worlds where all the doors were closed before.

I can't speak for everyone, but I do see the impact this has had on all of us. It has hit each of us individually that life is not meant to be wasted. Each day is a gift. What we do with our time here is up to us and it's up to us to make it meaningful. I've seen my kids shift in their own way, they each had to grow up overnight, but each one has matured in his own way, time and direction. So much beauty has come from so much tragedy. Hashem has given us lessons, it's up to each of us to continue to find their meanings. On earth, we are Hashem's soldiers. Negev was needed to fight in another dimension. But down here, we have to each bring our own light to continue and use Negev's strength to start again every day. It's not always easy to do, but if we can continue to remember Negev and Hashem's blessings, even if we don't always understand them, may it give us strength to carry on and make our lives meaningful.

I have started a monthly meeting, an Evening for Negev, for anyone and everyone who knew Negev. It will be a night of celebration, hugging, song, stories, videos. whatever people want to bring. It will be every 30th of the month, so that once a year, in May, it will fall on his birthday. We may also bring speakers who come to tell their stories and lift people up through sharing their experiences. I hope to have crafts or various projects to help heal and connect. I have no idea where this will lead, but I feel like it's coming from Negev . He's guiding me and I'm trying to follow his lead. I will also continue to write for and about Negev. As different memories resurface and different meanings become clear, I hope to share any and all of his teachings. I think there is so much he gave over and only now I can begin sifting through what was once unclear, but is now coming into focus.  

May we all continue to shine in Negev's merit. May we all continue to see blessings even in our darkest hours. May Negev continue to show up for us, watch over us and guide us. And may Hashem fulfill his promise of resurrecting our tzadikkim soon and in our time. Amen.