The Shiva

The Announcement:

Two nights before Negev's death, one of our sheep was killed and eaten along with her one week old baby. My first thought was, that she was attacked because the dog was going after her baby and she stayed behind to protect him. My second thought was, " Thank God she was killed along with him so that she wouldn't have to live the rest of her life with the vision of her baby being killed before her eyes." So the kids and I moved out to our tent near the animals to sleep and keep watch in case the dog returned. The first night all was quiet. I guess the dog wouldn't be hungry for a while. But the night after that, my husband came out to the tent to wake me at around 1 am. My immediate thought, as I was half-asleep, was that the dog attacked again. I couldn't figure out how it happened and that I hadn't heard it and why my husband had to take me out of the tent to tell me. It is all dark out there. Only stars to see, so I didn't notice at first that there were other people with him. Nor did I see their army uniforms. Only when they began with their sentence of stating Negev's name and rank, did I notice that soldiers were talking in a very formal voice that conveyed only one thing. All at once the scene unfolded and I began screaming. I don't remember a lot of the next couple of hours except that I went back into the tent and my sons held my hands as I continued to scream and cry . At one point , the head of the group of soldiers came in to where I was sitting , said he was sorry to bother me at this time, but he had a very limited time to save Negev's sperm, in case we wanted it. That flipped me out even more, but in the end, we asked them to just leave him in peace.

Hours later, they led me back to the house, the kids got in their own beds and the procedure began. Question after question was asked from a list they had on various tablets and phones which always had someone waiting on the other line. I hardly remember the interrogation, but it was very well organized and my neighbor came in at six am and sat next to me, held my hand , cried with me and asked them to go through her ,so as to take the burden off of me and my husband. She was amazing. She helped them organize the announcements, the pictures, the press and so much more. Then they began asking about the media and the visitors. Each minister from various political parties wanted to come for their piece of fame. I said no to each and every one of them. But they called back and asked a couple more times, only to get the same answer. Each newspaper , radio, and news channel wanted to have an inside look. No to everyone . The list went on and on. I was shocked at how fast they all found out and at how fast they jumped to get themselves a front row seat There were a couple of them who came during the shiva unannounced and without calling themselves politicians, but slipped through like snakes, nonetheless. At least they didn't bring a camera crew .

Once the time frame was worked out and the soldiers had the schedule down, we were taken on a mini bus to view Negev in his coffin. We were given time with him, to talk to him, to cry, to kiss him, to say every thing we wanted to say to him before getting back on the bus. He looked so beautiful , like he was sleeping, but he was cold and even though I expected him to get up and say it had all been a big mistake, he never did. I understand now why it is most important to see the dead. It closes a circle that otherwise the mind could never fathom.

Our bus driver drove so fast that we actually got pulled over on the road. But once they explained who we were, we were allowed to continue. Just as we were coming towards our small rural area, I could hear sirens, see lights coming from far behind us, but catching up fast. I thought it was an ambulance, but as he sped past us, the soldiers said that it was the van carrying Negev. We were already traveling at top speed, so him passing us had to be even faster than that. It hit me that , of course, it had to be Negev. He always drove like a maniac on the road. We were always getting after him about driving so fast and swerving in and out of traffic to beat his time every time. Here he was having his last drive , just like he liked to drive : fast, passing other cars, and us, just to arrive first at his final parking place. It was an almost perfect scene to an already surreal morning.

The Funeral:

As we approached the cemetery , the road was lined on both sides with hundreds and hundreds of people holding huge Israeli flags. Families with small children holding small flags, cars lined up and a parade crowd of dedicated Israelis holding space for another soldier, a hero and loved brother. The emotion was overwhelming. My first thought was that Negev would have loved all this attention. He lived for his country, his fellow Jews and he would have loved being the center of all this fuss.

We got off the bus and were led to the gravesite. I hardly saw anything and I still felt like none of it was real. There was no way Negev had died. But there were so many people there. Why were they all there when there was no reason for them to be there? It all seemed like such a bad dream, and that I had to wake up soon. There were many who spoke, including myself. I hardly remember what I said, I just remember that it was in English. The soldiers had told me before the drive that if I wanted to speak, I should write something down so that it would be coherent. All I could think of was that it seemed impossible to even hold a pen to paper. My limbs were numb and I didn't have complete control of my motor abilities. So I said what ever came out of my mouth. I hope it was ok and that someone got something from it. But I felt I had to speak and say a few words about Negev. I was his mom and I always stood for him and did the best I could to protect him and be a voice for him when there was no one else. So I spoke one last time in his defense and to tell whoever was listening how wonderful of an individual and special he really was. Some of his close friends also cried and spoke about him, still unable to imagine that their lives were continuing without him there with them. It was simple and honest and intimate. I felt so honored to be there holding this moment for Negev amongst his family, his friends, fellow soldiers, teachers, co-workers and all the people who knew and loved him. As they lowered the coffin into the hole with ropes, it got bumped and jarred a little until they got it right. I imagined Negev was in there laughing about having one last adventure and something funny to add to the story. He always told his stories with humor, so that we wouldn't take things too seriously and worry about him.

The Shiva:

The shiva lasted 7 days, but it felt like three years. Not in a bad way, but with the doors opening and the conversations, the people who showed up, the things we learned about Negev, about ourselves, about life and death and everything in between, it seemed to go on and on and each new day was as unforgettable as the last.

As soon as we returned from the funeral, my house was already cleaned and organized. The house was already filling up with food and drink and chairs and tables were being set up. It was like watching a well oiled machine get to work running not on gas, but on love. They wouldn't let me pick up anything. I was expected to just sit and greet visitors. At first , it seemed foreign, but I felt so weak from everything anyway, it kind of came easier as time went on.

People just began showing up. Our house filled up with hugs, prayers, crying, laughing, stories, hope and sadness. Through it all , it felt like family. I didn't bother to cover my hair from the very beginning. With so many hugs and weakness , I decided that the people coming all felt so much like family, that it didn't matter anyway. So I looked like crap with a swollen face and my hair a mess, but it felt the most natural that way anyway. So I let my guard down, let myself be taken care of by my amazing friends, and had deep connections with every person who approached me with prayers, blessings, and empathy. We mourned together, and held each other up while the wave of overwhelm sought to bring us down. It succeeded in many respects, but we were always there with laughter and stories that made it easier to digest.

I kept seeing a string of connections being made, which I came to know as Negev having a hand in bringing us all together. It was another gesture of tikkun that he kept making happen. It was him that turned my lonely quiet house into a place of meeting and friends. People who before had made plans to come, but were too busy to make it. People who I had lost touch with. People who had disappeared from my life. People who never knew us or Negev, came just to bring love and support. Parents of soldiers bringing news of their sons still in Lebanon who knew Negev. Soldiers who had just left Lebanon in order to come to the shiva. Soldiers who got special permission to leave the hospital to come down and say how much they loved Negev, then headed straight back to the hospital because they hadn't even gotten permission to go home yet. Some came with a broken shoulder from shrapnel or had surgery on their leg after being injured in the war up north. We met a beautiful man who had been a soldier in the '60's and showed us pictures of him in the hospital being visited by the Prime Minister Ben Gurion. People came who had lost sons in previous wars who helped me recognize various stages of grief and what I might expect in the near future. We met people who had come from near and far. Some came just to give hugs and support. Some came to tell their own stories or listen to Negev's. We cried together. We laughted together. We had deep conversations that brought us to level ground. Once you stand at eye level with someone and share their grief, worlds open up.

One amazing woman came with a large leather bound journal in the color of the soldier's cumta (unit's hat) . She didn't know us or Negev, but she felt called to make a memorial book for each soldier who died and deliver it to his shiva. She combed the internet and newspapers looking for any article, post or message in Negev's name . She printed it out and pasted all of it inside this journal. She left space for us to add to it and for anyone who wanted to write in it. This book was laying on the table and it was passed around as people admired the dedication to her love of our soldiers. They wrote eulogies and thoughts and stories for and about Negev. It was such a beautiful and thoughtful gift that gave everyone a chance to express their love in writing.

The world I had once known had been smashed to smithereens and a new brighter, lovelier world had been opened up. I kept seeing this vision that each of us were covered with a thin layer of glass without knowing it , facing our everyday path. Then Negev grabbed me (us) by the shoulders and shook me. The glass layer cracked into a milllion shards and fell away. We are now facing a new path and we are freed of that thin layer of that glass layer that had held us frozen in our old world. Negev broke our glass shell , punched through the ceiling, knocked down the walls and here we are facing a newer, better , lighter, more beautiful world than we could have ever imagined. It was right there in front of us, but it took Negev's strength and sacrifice and wisdom to make us see what was hidden in plain sight. He held the key and only he could open it. Once he did, we were able to come together and stand on holy ground.

Shiva, technically means to sit. It also means 7, because we sit for seven days to help the soul find it's way back. It also gives those left behind time to reflect, heal, pray, deal with the grief, send condolences and support each other. But it is a loaded word, as are all Hebrew words. It is related to tshuva , which means to return. This can be a reflection on returning the soul to Hashem or for the family to slowly be able to return to their regular life after such a tragedy.

Our youngest, Zeb is 12. He really had a hard time in the beginning, not knowing where his place in the world is anymore with Negev gone. So he kept drifting back into his room to escape the onslaught of people flooding his house ,as well as the sadness of losing his brother. So I would go back to his room and pull him out again. I didn't want him to slip into a world of depression and not be able to express his emotions. So I had him come back out and sit on my lap or next to me. Eventually, he came to be more comfortable as he talked to others and hung out with Negev's friends who took him under their arm and sat with him or played games with him. They had him come out of his shell within a couple of days and from there things were much better with him. It's not over, but at least the shiva gave a good beginning.

My husband, Shalom was not sleeping and was overcome by grief. Eventually I gave him some melissa tea with ashwaganda tincure I made. He fell asleep and snored loudly all night. So it worked and now we're sleeping mostly regularly. I was given a stress relief herbal tincure that I put in everyone's water for the first few days. I drank celery juice everyday. My neighbor came over every morning and made it for me. I felt it keep me balanced , nutritionally as well as emotionallly. It flooded my body and my brain with minerals, which are being burned through at a heightened rate with all the emotional upheaval going on. People also brought me herbal infusions, carrot juice and smoothie. These are each easily absorbed and provide a large amount of nutrition in one cup.

Negev's friends...........

We had never met Negev's friends. He grew up with them and they hung out together at school. As they grew up and each got their driver's licenses, they began spending less time in the area and more time roaming the country looking for new adventures. But Negev never brought them to the house. We're not sure why, there could have been many reasons. We had heard names , but never matched them to the faces. At the funeral many of them were there crying with us and speaking in Negev's honor. It was so sweet. They felt as broken as we did. Negev was like a brother to them. Over the week of shiva, they came every night and sat with us, told crazy Negev stories and shared pictures from their adventures. I got to know Negev in a completely different light. I could see his dedication to his friends and to adventure. How he brought out the best of each of them and how they loved him. On his last Shabbat home, Negev said to his friends that if any one of them didn't make it out of this mess of war, the rest of them would get a tattoo of that person. In the end, Negev was the one who didn't make it, and since it was his idea, they all decided to get a tattoo of a picture they took of Negev sitting on a sand dune next to his motorcycle. They came to the third night of the shiva with freshly drawn tattoos on their legs.

Many soldiers came and told how much they loved hanging out with Negev and remembered many of their crazy experiences they had in the army with him. It was always stories of how Negev took the heavy load, rebelled against useless rules, and how he always made sure they were laughing and not taking things too seriously.

My community........

I have lived in Moshav Dekel for 23 years and counting. I rarely go off my property because I am so busy around the farm and with the kids, that we hardly ever go out. So I am not having tea with the neighbors or visiting other people's houses. But at 6 am, just hours after we were told about Negev's death, my neighbors began showing up at my house, cleaning, organizing, bringing food and necessities, holding my hand, hugging me and communicating with the army so that I didn't have to. By the time we came back from the funeral, the house was shiny and new and quickly filling up with food , drink , chairs, tables, desert coolers, fans, and tents. From then on the supply committee kept bringing homemade meals and plasticware to keep everyone fed and taken care of. It was miraculous, it was so generous, and it showed me what our community really means. Their heartfelt support , hugs , and organized meals blew me away. I had no idea we had such an amazing, close knit community until this shiva.

The people who came to meet with us, lifted us up, gave us strength, poured love into us, and gave us the foundation we needed to continue. Each person stood out. Each one brought his/her unique gift just by being present for us. I wish I could list them all here, but there were too many to put on paper (virtual).

This one week felt like 3 years. So much happened in this short time, it almost seemed impossible. The week began with Negev's brit and death which both fell on Yom Yerushalim, Then there was Rosh Hodesh which fell on Shabbat. We were at the end of the Omer, and the end of the shiva ran right into Shavuot. We also had quite a bit of rain at 4 am coming into the last day before we went to the gravesite again. That's rain during the Omer in May/Sivan. Very unusual weather for this time of year. On that trip to the grave, I spoke again. This time I had my wits about me and I was able to speak in Hebrew and say all the things I had forgotten to say the first time. That was also the International Bee Day. My brother arrived on the third day from the US. The amount of people, prayers, food made and brought, conversations, information passed, lessons learned, friends made, the never-ending emotional rollercoaster, more soldiers killed, stories told, eyes opened, connections made, hugging, crying , and we even slipped in one more birthday before the week was over. By the end of the second day of shiva, Negev's friends all decided to get tattoos of Negev and his motorcycle on their leg. By day 4 , they had bumper stickers, key chains, and tfillat haderech magnets made. By the end of the week, they had ordered hats and shirts as well. On the second or third day, someone already had a set of sefer sidurim printed in Negev's name. I'd never seen things move forward so quickly in such a short amount of time.

The soldiers really stand out. They let me into their hearts by talking about their time spent with Negev, their military jobs, their experiences and their absolute humility. They see what they do as just doing what needs to be done. They don't complain, they aren't scared , even after having witnessed horrific explosions and death. They are led by conviction , love for their fellow Jews and Hashem's light. It is a miracle to behold their grace and dedication to their mission of protecting and serving the Jewish nation. Nothing is too big for them, and when I ask them if they need anything, they always say they have everything they need. This is a generation of warriors, the like we haven't seen in quite awhile, or ever.

When the army told us about Negev dying, they didn't tell us exactly how it happened. But the first or second night of the shiva, a couple came down here from the north to tell us what happened to Negev, how it happened and who was with him. They are the parents of one of the soldiers who were in the room with Negev when he was hit. Three soldiers were in the kitchen of an Arab house in the village that the army evacuated and took over. The three boys (men) were talking in the kitchen about their plans for tomorrow when a bomb exploded outside the kitchen. Two of the boys were sitting on the floor, but Negev was standing. The shrapnel came through the window and hit Negev in the back of the head. The other two were also hit with small pieces of shrapnel on their faces, but nothing too serious. They held Negev and called for the helicopter . They were all airlifted to the nearest hospital in the north of Israel.

On the way to the hospital, Negev passed. The other two , had the small pieces of shrapnel removed from their temple and cheek and given 10 days of rest at home. These two amazing heroes decided to return instead to Lebanon immediately. They called their parents and told them not to come visit them in the hospital because they were heading back in. There wasn't even time to come and give them a hug. The parents of one of the soldiers showed me their last text with their son before he lost cellular connection. They told him that they were on their way down to our shiva and they asked him if he wanted to relay a message to us. He said, "Please tell Negev's parents that I was the one holding him when he died. I was the last to speak with him and tell them that he didn't suffer". We cried and hugged. They literally made my day. What a relief to know the truth, that he was surrounded by friends that he loved and that he didn't suffer. What a blessing they brought to me and the story only continues from there.

My Rebbe:

A rabbi is a teacher. Someone who can reach such heights and such depths that they exist in a different realm than the rest of us. We can only grasp at their teachings without ever reaching their wisdom. They are able to teach each person differently. They are able to shake our core to it's foundation and leave us changed forever with a new and clear understanding of how things truly are. My son , Negev , is such a rabbi/teacher, although he would never agree with me on that. Even after his death, he is still teaching. He may not have written text books, but his lessons are still being learned even after he is gone.

He was always learning from experience. He taught us to never take things too seriously, but to commit to them anyway. To do the job that is required, find reasons to laugh, enjoy the moment or think about good things to come.

He was dedicated to his family and his friends, his army position , and to his idea of balancing his life on the edge of a blade. He had an angel's heart and a devil's hand.

One time, I called him my "wild child" and he smiled so brightly. He lived for experience and didn't like to sit still. He loved to be where the action was and was willing to sacrifice life and limb for those in his world.

Negev was filled with good humor, common sense, love and a need to offer advice or steady comfort to those he cared about. Mostly he kept his friends apart from his family. Maybe hiding their nighttime escapades from us. Again, always protecting us from his fearless reality.

But after so many people showing up and hearing their crazy stories with Negev, I see how far reaching was his love and light. Each one of them had a different nickname or names for him. He was any number of things to many people. Their teacher, their advisor , their friend, their leader, their confidant, their driver, their protector. He was a magnet and the one who brought them all together. He loved to start arguments just for the sake of getting everyone all riled up and getting the conversation started. He could have a serious conversation with an adult , then get up and start talking nonsense with his friends. In either place, he would give 100% of his attention to the speaker, no matter the topic. He always made people feel seen and heard and important. He was the one they counted on, the one who would pick up the phone at any hour and be there for whatever reason.

He was always trying to nudge his homeschooled younger brothers to go out in the world to get a taste of adventure. He wanted them to feel freedom and have experiences before becoming a soldier where all you know is following orders and war. He had so many funny stories, which he had told me about the army. It had to be funny so that he could protect me from the harsh reality of his army existence. But I got glimpses into what he and his comrades were dealing with.

Negev took everything with a grain of salt and learned to put up with the worst by adding a teaspoon of sugar. He thought that everyone around him were vulnerable and he was going to take it on his shoulders and handle the heavy load. He rarely sat still. His phone was always ringing and he was always off on the next adventure after sitting down to eat with us. Never telling us where he was going or with whom. We just waited for the car to come back sometime around 7 am. Then he would sleep for a few hours before heading off on another escapade or working on his motorcycle before taking it on rides with his friends.

Among the new soldiers Negev met was one who had just arrived from the US to serve in the Israeli army. It had been his dream for a long time. He didn't understand a word in Hebrew and he didn't know anyone. It was a very difficult time for him. He wanted Golani, but they weren't cutting him any slack. He didn't mean to disrespect his officers, but they had it in their heads that he was being rude or cheeky because he wasn't doing what they kept yelling at him to do. The more they yelled, the more he got frustrated and felt lost. Negev was always there to try to help with translation or to explain to him what was happening. This soldier was given punishments and court marshals, but it didn't change the fact that he still didn't understand what they were saying. He was becoming more and more flustered and feeling out of place. He told them he wanted out. But of course, they didn't listen to him and continued to come down harder on him. Negev told me about this soldier many times and how he was trying to make it easier for him by talking to him and translating, but it wasn't changing the fact that the guy felt that he was in the wrong place. Finally he was transferred and he and Negev lost touch. They did meet in Lebanon at some point, but this soldier never forgot Negev and how much he had been there for him as a friend.

After spending time listening to stories of how Negev's heart touched so many others in ways I wasn't able to imagine before, has put such perspective on everything else . Which goes to show how his teachings and his impact continue long after his physical departure. Every person who knew Negev continues to carry his spark. What was once one Negev, has become a bonfire of sparks lighting up the night sky.

He has changed our worlds, taught us what we had no way of knowing, brought us together in ways we didn't know we needed and he continues to be the "hevel" that connects us to Hashem, to Negev and to each other. We all have so many plans, work, family, commitments etc. that much of what we want to do is put off indefinitely. Negev broke that wall of excuses into a thousand pieces. His life was built around never wasting a moment. If you want to do something, you do it now. Nothing is as important as living at your fullest capacity every moment you're given. He must have known he didn't have time to waste and he took every opportunity he had to make life an experience.

Negev saw us each as an amplifier. Using his spark to reach the world, each in our own voice, but with his light. I realize now that he wasn't just my son, he was larger than life. He was given to me for a short while, but he belonged to everyone. I was just the vessel and the springboard. I was blessed to be his mom, to nourish him, watch him grow, help where I could, be there for him, and have a home where he could rest when weary. He belonged to everyone and I can see now in the people coming to share stories about Negev, that each one felt the same sense of honor to be in his field of vision. He saw a person's heart and if it matched his own, he opened the doors to let them in.

He spent his limited amount of time making sure everyone around him felt loved an protected. He had a fierce loyalty to his job and wasted no time or energy on anything else. Everything he did , he did for others in his own way.

Just to put things into perspective, I will tell a story that sums it up. He was home for shabbat, maybe 6 months before his death. We were sitting at the table for kiddush. I said something off hand to my husband and for some reason, he flew off the handle and started yelling at me with such anger. At first we all thought he was kidding. What does that at the dinner in front of the kids at the kiddush table? And for what reason? I was shocked and humiliated and stunned and I wanted to cry. But I didn't say anything because I didn't want to ruin our already ruined dinner. I waited, quietly got up and left. A few minutes later, Negev came to find me. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just sat with me because he knew I needed someone to be with me. It was important to him to support me, but it was also important to him to stay at the table for a few minutes with his Abba and not just storm away. Later, of course, he went out with his friends because he couldn't let them down either.

He thought of everyone. Worried about everyone. Took care of everyone. Had so much love for everyone. He wanted to be there for everyone and to help whenever he could. Negev never minced words. He was an open book, for the most part, except when he was protecting someone. Then he made up cover stories to not get someone in trouble. I remember looking at him one of the last visits we had with him. He seemed so grown up, caring, sweet , mature and empathetic . . He was devoted to his family and friends. So sure of who he was and what was important, that I couldn't help thinking how he would make such an amazing husband and father.

How can a person have a heart like a lion, the joy of a child, the wisdom of a sage, the strength of an oak, the energy of a hurricane, the rebelliousness of an outlaw, the stubbornness of Balaam's donkey, the fearlessness of a Viking, the willingness of an innocent child, the mischievousness of a kitten, the hormones of a tom cat and purity of a Nazarite. He was all 4 sons at the Pesach seder. How can one person embody all this in one body? You're probably thinking I am exaggerating and building my son up to seem like a super hero or a Greek god. But anyone who knew him knows I'm hardly scratching the surface. Negev was all these things and more. And because of it, he was able to find those parts in others and connect to them on another level. He was able to evoke such loyalty from his friends and fellow soldiers and any one he met. He was able to befriend misfits, trouble makers, lone soldiers, his friends parents, convicts and others in the periphery. He could see person's heart and their soul and he was able to lift them up and bring out the best of each one.

They tell stories of Negev always being the one who was pushing boundaries. He would take it to the absolute edge, but never crossed the line. He know when to draw the red line, even though he came right up to the border. A few of the kids' moms approached me during the shiva to tell me that they always counted on Negev. They knew some of what he and his friends were up to and they said they never would have let their kids go out unless they knew Negev was with them. These moms told Negev they depended on him to be the "responsible" one , they put all of their trust in him and he came through for them. He appreciated that they could see in him a leader and a caring friend.

One winter, I remember asking him where all of his new sweatshirts were. He kept buying them and yet he never seemed to have any. He told me various girls would get into his car and complain about being cold, so he took his sweatshirt off and gave it to her. She didn't offer to give it back and he didn't feel right to ask. This kept happening until he finally stopped wearing one himself and he went out into the cold with a t-shirt just so these girls would stop taking his sweatshirts. They learned and began coming properly dressed for the cold. In the end, he made sure to always have an extra sweatshirt laying around in his car, which he could have done in the beginning, but he felt he had to teach them the lesson first.

From his very early days, Negev was taking things apart and building , inventing rafts, engines, computers and all all sorts of ideas just for the sake of creating and using his hands. We always teased him about his love of disassembling and reassembling carburetors. When anything went wrong in any of his machines, the first thing he wanted to do was to take apart the carburetor. But he got to be very good at fixing them and he taught his brothers.

He liked his car to be spic and span. I could have cleaned his car for him when he got back, but I knew he liked to spend hours outside washing, vacuuming, and waxing his car, so I left it for him to clean. But every once in a while, we would wake up after he came home, to see his car a mess after he had been up all night with his friends. We would ask him what happened, but we rarely got a straight answer. His time with his friends was sacred and he didn't want us to worry. But sitting with his friends at the shiva, those stories are all slowly coming out. He knew that if we knew , we would hide the keys and never let him out of the house.

For my last birthday, somehow Negev managed to have time to think of the perfect gift for me, order it, and have his friend get it and hold on to it until Negev was home and could give me his gift of a record player. I say 'managed' because between fighting in Gaza, then being moved from base to base having to pack and unpack all his army stuff, bedridden with some kind of pox, and being sent in to Lebanon, he still made my birthday present his priority. He also took the time to write a handwritten card saying, "I wish more for you than I do for myself."

But then again, that's Negev. He opened up worlds , both while he was here and he continues to even without a physical presence.

Negev's mustache:

While in the army, Negev decided that he was going to keep his little mustache and goatee. They threatened him and threatened him, but they liked him and didn't do much more than that. So the discussion went on for a long time. They tried everything but actually putting him in jail, although they threatened that too. Finally they agreed to give him permission to have one. But the paper never materialized. He walked around without proof of permission and yet no one bothered him at his base. When he moved bases, they must have gotten the message from someone because no one said anything there either. Then about a week later, after a year of this mustache fight, they changed the law of having to shave, to anyone can now have a beard. We called it Hok Negev (Negev's law). He was so stubborn they felt they had to change it to suit him.

Perspective:

It is said that the soul knows 30 days before the body is meant to die. It seems, after talking with Negev's friends, his fellow soldiers and noticing the signs between us that Negev knew his time was coming to an end. It started with his last Shabbat at home. He was restless all shabbat. He just didn't seem relaxed. At the kiddush table, he made an announcement that he needed to get something off of his chest. He said that he had been thinking up in Lebanon and there was something he wanted to come clean about. So he told us a story that had been running here in the moshav for years. Every time it came up or got passed around, Negev always denied the rumors, but never actually told his side of the story .

All of a sudden after years of letting the story remain a secret, he decided now was the time to clean the slate. To get it all out in the open and to tell the truth of what happened that night many years ago. Of course he made it funny, to make it seem less serious, but it had been weighing on him for a long time and he finally decided this Shabbat was the time to lay it all to rest, so to speak. Then I heard from his friends that he had called each one of them and insisted on meeting them individually that same Shabbat. A form of saying goodbye. He told his friend that he was scared of going back in this time. Something he had never said before. Other friends noticed that he was posting songs and writing letters that were related to saying goodbye . He also said to them that same Shabbat that if anyone of them didn't make it through this war, all the others in the group would get a tattoo of that person. As soon as they found out about Negev's death, they all signed up to get the tattoo of Negev and his motorcycle. We got all the clues of him knowing his time was coming to an end, yet he never wanted us to worry. One of his best friends stated it this way, " He told us goodbye without saying it" . " He wouldn't want us to ever forget him, but he would want us to be happy and to know that he's ok."

He is working with Hashem now and probably not following directions and making a mess of their procedures up there. But they are known for their patience and they know that Negev has always done things his own way. So i'm guessing this holy army Hashem is building is getting stronger and stronger with each tzaddik that joins it's ranks. And we all know that Negev is up there making everyone laugh and feel at ease even though they are on a most serious and holy mission.

Negev didn't choose Golani at first. He went around for a long time saying he had decided Magav. But when he changed his mind and did decide Golani, he did it with an iron clad dedication. He had many opportunities to change course, but once he made up his mind, he stuck with it. When Negev returned to the base up north preparing to go in for the last time, he had many paths to take to opt out of going in to Lebanon. He expressed his fear and feeling of unease to his friends. They told him he should go to the army doctor and get a few days off , he said no. He drives the 'naamer' (tiger) transport. But it couldn't get into Lebanon because a path needed to be cleared first. So he was supposed to stay back until he was able to drive in. But he jumped into the Hummer, and drove in with his unit, instead of staying back.

Because of the constant attacks of suicide drones, they spent most of their time inside the house. The windows were covered with blankets so that snipers couldn't see where the soldiers were. The guys knew that the kitchen was at the front of the house and that they should stay in other rooms toward the back of the house in case of bombs and shrapnel. Everyone knew to stay out of the way of the windows and they knew to stay down, just in case. They had all been in Gaza before Lebanon and the knew protocol when inside the house, was sitting on the floor or laying on the beds. Even though the other two soldiers in the room with him were sitting, he was standing with his back to the covered window, just to the side of it. The shrapnel that hit him in the back of the head found him and went straight for him. Later when they looked at the blanket covering the window, they saw it had 3 small holes that the shrapnel had made. One for Negev and the other two for the soldiers who were sitting. It seems he knew to be exactly in that spot at exactly that time and he did all he could to make that happen. That shrapnel had an address and it found him right where he was supposed to be. He must have felt led to be at that place at exactly that time. He made no excuses to miss his mark. He made the buses on time, and didn't let anything deter him from getting to a standing position in front of that window at 9:17 pm.

Negev died at the age of 21 and one week, on the day of his brit mila, Yom Jerusalayim in Lebanon. The Rav of our moatsa, made the connection: Negev, Yerushalayim, Lebanon. He encompassed the entire eretz in one last bold statement and big hug the day he died. The Rav also mentioned that the word "Negev" is inherently thirsty. That's exactly how Negev lived his life. Always thirsty for more.

At his brit mila, my husband chose the sandak (godfather) for Negev from his brothers -in-law. He had 4 to chose from and he chose Shai, his sister Aviva's husband. Shai was honored to hold Negev on that day, as Negev was laid on Shai's lap while he was attended to by the mohel for the brit mila. 21 years later, Shai came home from work, not feeling well. He laid down on his bed in his apartment in Modiin. All of a sudden his entire body went up in what felt like flames and electricity. It was so intense and so sudden and all encompassing that he told his wife he felt like he was going to die. Everything in his body was in pain and it felt similar to getting shocked from an electric outlet. Electricity and fire surging through his body. Eventually, it passed and he fell asleep. The next morning they saw the announcement of Negev's death. Only later when we all found out the details and time of Negev's death, did it become clear that Shai had this horrific experience at the same time that Negev was hit.

When the soldier's parents came to visit us and told us that Negev didn't suffer or feel pain, we were able to understand the connection. Shai, as the sandak (godfather) held Negev in the beginning and he held him again in the end. He took the hit for Negev. Negev was killed, but Shai eased his pain by taking the hit for him. Everything Negev was supposed to feel before his death, went to Shai, his protector and connection to the spiritual world. Shai held that connection Negev's entire life. He took the brunt of the pain in Modiin, so that Negev could pass peacefully in Lebanon. That is a massive mitzvah and a very strong connection. I will never again doubt the importance of choosing the sandak, nor their connection to the child throughout their entire life.

Throughout the entire shiva, there was a white butterfly who never left the area. He fluttered about, but was always present, the whole week. I came to know it was Negev. It stayed with us while we were sitting and when we got up to take people on a tour of the farm, it followed us there and back. I hadn't been eating, just drinking. I wasn't up to it yet. But people kept worrying and telling me I needed strength, that I had to eat something. They made me amazing nutritious stews, lentils and soups, but I couldn't get anything down, even if I wanted to , which I didn't. But these wonderful people also made and brought me juices: carrot juice and celery juice and smoothie. Once I was sitting holding a carrot juice that was just brought to me, I was putting off drinking it as everyone around me was telling me that I needed sustenance. Just as we were discussing this, the butterfly flew directly to my face and smacked me between the eyes. I realized it was Negev telling me to drink the carrot juice already. He was worried about me too. So I took the jar and drank it all down.

Negev was an angel who was sent to us to complete his mission. He had a signed contract with the date of his death already determined. Whether he consciously knew this or not, his soul had some kind mission to be at the right place at the right time in order to make this happen. Negev was very Intune to the world within, to the people around him and always doing what was needed of him, no matter the cost. He seemed to know he had a mission and very little time on earth, so he lived accordingly. He brought out the good in those around him , they depended on him and looked to him for comfort and stability. He pushed the limits, but stayed just within the red line. His job here was to protect, take care of , love, accept, do for others, take the heavy load, be the one they can count on and teach us to always strive to be better, more authentic , and unafraid. To never allow yourself to be put in a box, to live with joy, use common sense and throw sense out the window.

One of his purposes on earth and beyond was his way of making tikun olam . Much of what I witnessed during the shiva and since has been that each of us has made personal tikkunim. All of these little tikkunim add up to a larger tikun olam and Negev was the one who brought it all about. He was on such another level that in order to try to understand who he was and what he did, we must strive to reach his maturity and his wisdom, even though we may never get there.

Since Negev's death, I have learned so much about my community, about Negev, about his life, his friends, his escapades, about myself and about Hashem's hidden-in-plain-sight convergence of worlds. Negev was able to see it. He was able to see the spark in each of us and he did all he could to help us reach our potential before his time was up.. Negev was and still remains an inspiration, a true friend, and a pure Jewish soul who is now watching over us from above.

My house was taken over by my husband's sisters and the rest of my community who each came bearing homemade food. They brought food, snacks, drinks, plastic plates, cups, forks, napkins, wipes, paper towels, toilet paper etc etc. It was enough to stock a hotel. Now that they have taken the extras and given it to local clubs, I have my house back. We can use my silverware again and ceramic plates. I can cook again and have water on the table instead of soft drinks. It was very humbling to step back and let others take care of us. I let go of all of my strict rules about no plastic, no processed foods, and no cleaning chemicals . I just let go and allowed everyone to help in whatever way they could., using whatever they felt was the best.

My kids took a week and a half break from celery juice and smoothies and ate all the store bought cakes, cookies, and chips that were brought to us. I was not in a position to argue. They needed to grieve their way and they took advantage of my lack of supervision. Yes, they enjoyed junk food and the house smelled like a hospital, but all was well. It's important to let go and let it flow. I learned the gift of stepping away and turning a blind eye when needed. Another lesson learned from Negev.

Although I have learned many things along this journey, I do not wish it on anyone. It is an exclusive club that none of us tried to get in. However, I am here. So I feel the need to learn and share what I am going through. There are a few important points about being in this group of people. We see things every day people can't or won't see. It's similar to the Thestrals, from Harry Potter. Only people who have seen death, can see them.

The first thing I want to touch on is our beautiful Am Israel. I can't express in words how these people have moved me. I have never seen such depth and understanding. Such caring and sacrifice. They are another level completely. But only if you've been through this kind of thing, can you really see it. Past the distractions, past the superficial mask, past the redundant political arguements, past the misdirected protests and critisisms ... Our people carry a legacy that runs deeper and farther back than the milky way. Sadly it only comes apparent when tragedy happens, but at least we know it's there, buried for the most part, but still accessible when needed.

I had the honor to meet people involved in one of the hardest tasks, which is to announce the death of the son/soldier. I can't imagine having to have to be the one to break the news in the dead of night at the parent's front door. But they do it with grace and care and I am in awe of their service. Because they come usually at night and the gate is closed, they have to be very secretive about their appearance in a moshav or anywhere. So they come and announce themeslves as "security personell" to the "sheriff" (rav shatz) of the moshav so that he will let them in. Once they are in, they meet him face to face and let him know who they really are. They have to dress in civilian clothes so that no one looking from their windows might have a heart attack just by seeing them driving around. No one knows which house they might stop at. So they do a "dry run" past the house . The "rav shatz" shows them where the family lives. Then they go to a secluded dark area nearby and change into their army uniform and come back to the house. This is all done so as not to upset anyone along the way. Once they knock on the door, they ask that you sit down before they tell you the dreadful news.

In our case, my husband got up at 1 am to drink some water from the kitchen and he saw them park and get out of the car. He met them halfway to the door, knowing that something was about to happen. They asked him to sit down before breaking the terrible news. I had been asleep outside with my kids in our tent, so the soldiers and my husband walked all the way out there to wake me up. Kol hakavod to those who have this job. It must weigh very heavy on a person .

Another thing I learned from this whole experience is about the Hareidi unit that has a special task they have to complete. These are soldiers whose job it is to go back into the place where a soldier was killed and search the area with a magnifying glass to locate any left over parts, pieces and blood, scoop it all up and lay it into a box to be buried with the soldier.

These soldiers understand this is holy work and head back into the scene of the crime even when it is (and it usually is) an active war zone. This is not ZAKA. They do the same work, but they are soldiers who are recruited for this job. Those who like to argue that Hareidim don't do army, please give them credit and understand this is very holy and sensative work. It goes unnoticed and untalked about. They work behind the scenes and they are not interviewed nor put on the list of warriors. And yet the work they do to return every last piece and part of each and every soldier, never to leave them behind , should be given every bit of credit that the soldier who was killed is given.

When they returned to the room where Negev was killed, they did find things, put them in a box and delivered it to us so that we could bury it with Negev. When I was told about this second box, my already super high respect for soldiers went even higher still. What nation in the entire world does this for it's people? What special kind of people are willing to do this kind of work ? I am blown away and humbled that this goes on, daily , behind the scenes. I had never heard of this before Negev's death. .

Of the many traumas the soldiers have to endure, one that stands out in my mind , is a story that Negev was telling me about. It happened in Gaza as well as in Lebanon, but this one happened about 2 weeks before Negev was killed. There are many suicide drones flying around the house where the soldiers are bunkered. It never stops. They come all day and all night, although at night it is harder for them to function. Hizbolla has thousands and thousands of these, so they don't care if one gets caught in a tree or blows up accidentally. There are many more to send over. There were 3 or 4 soldiers outside the house working on a tank that needed to be fixed. The suicide drone came to them and blew up blowing these soldiers into pieces. The soldiers that were in the house had to come out to collect the piecres and put them in trash bags to be handed over to the army to begin the task of identifing who is who. Can you imagine being that 20 year old who had to pick this up? Can you imagine having to live with the trauma for the rest of your life? Who is helping them to deal with this? What time off did they receive? The answer is no one is helping and they were not offered time off. They just handed over the trash bags and went back into the house to continue their work. They are not machines. They are not robots. They are human beings and they are left with serious PTSD, resulting in many suicides. Please say a few words of blessing over our amazing soldiers for their safety and mental health.

Over the last 2 weeks, I have met with many many soldiers. Each one is a vision of Jewish strength and humility. They are mature beyond their years and can break your heart just by looking into your eyes. They are carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders and they carry on because they understand that they are the only ones who will do this job. They are working for Hashem and their people. When a soldier dies, it is a mistake to say they have fallen/ נפל . In truth, they have risen/ אלה . These holy soldiers are doing Hashem's work and their sacrifice can only make them rise to become great tzaddikim.

They say time heals, but it's actually not true. A friend of mine came to the shiva and she explained that time doesn't actually heal the wounds of loss. What it does do, is provide the space and quiet for us to figure out how to carry on despite the pain. I hope I paraphrased that correctly. She said it much better, but it made so much sense to me, that I wanted to share it here.

We went to a lookout today behind our moshav. 7 boys, just before their draft into the army, made it their mission to place dedicated benches near the homes of fallen (risen) soldiers and victims of Oct 7. They made the beautiful wooden bench themselves with donated materials and money to bring it all the way out here. The spot is a popular stop out in the desert over looking the dunes and the huge resevouir that looks like a lake. They placed it under a tree where Negev and his friends come to rest when on a motorcycle ride. The wind blows non stop and you get to look out over the entire desert. It was so beautiful. We spoke about Negev and how many memories this hilltop holds for them and for us. The bench is engraved with Negev's name and a favorite saying of his, "You only live once, make it memorable". The bench is another reminder of the shiva. A bench to sit on overlooking the desert, and reflect on Negev, his life, our losses, our blessings and our connection to our Creator, to our land and to each other.

We don't know Hashem's reasons for doing things. We can only know that everything he does is for the best. Negev was inducted into the Hall of Fame in Hashem's realm along with many other beautiful souls. He must be building quite an army to need these special people who are pure in their love for the Jewish nation.

May Negev's memory always be for a blessing. May he be resurrected with all the other tzaddkim when Maschiach comes ..