Israel Journal: Day the Very Last...
I am a jumble of mixed emotions right now. Today is my last full day in Israel. I am typing this from my daughter's laptop, sitting next to her on her wheelchair while she is in bed, after sleeping off two extra Percosets she received after almost falling off her wheelchair between it and her bed this morning. It is so hard for me to grasp that I won't be seeing her for a very long time, let alone not seeing my two sons and their wives, and my little grandchildren.
My oldest grandson, all of two years and nine months, realized in his little toddler way that his Savta was leaving. I had spoken to him about that I'd be flying in an airplane far, far away (in a galaxy...), back to my home, and we would talk to and see each other on the computer's camera, the way we did before I came. But then, he didn't really know who Savta was, as he had never seen me before. Now, I had practically lived with them for two months, so he now knows who Savta is. I hope. His little sister, all of one year and nine months, probably will forget me--but hopefully, not my songs: I sang them to sleep many nights, and my son knows some of them--the Hebrew ones, at least. But he doesn't know the Yiddish ones that my grandmother sang to me, which I now am singing to my grandchildren, and the beat goes on...
I am planning on (bli neder) recording me singing these songs and sending my son an MP3 file, so they can hear these songs every night, if they so choose. The songs include Hebrew bedtime songs such as Numi Numi, Lailah Lailah, and Yiddish songs such as Rozhinkes mit Mandlen, and several others whose names I don't even remember. Then I top them off (after singing with them the "Shma" and "Hamal'ach Hago'el Oti of course) with some American songs. One of their favorites is "Oh Shenandoah."
My daughter has her work cut out for her now. She has to work through the intense pain to desensetize her legs and eventually, hopefully soon--"reset" her brain to realized that there is nothing wrong with her legs. I wish I could be there, every day, to visit her and encourage her and see her through this. But for now, I can't.
I know it's a little odd ending this trip with an American song--I should be ending with an Israeli one--but this spiritual resonates with my mood. Sad. Longing. Hoping...
My oldest grandson, all of two years and nine months, realized in his little toddler way that his Savta was leaving. I had spoken to him about that I'd be flying in an airplane far, far away (in a galaxy...), back to my home, and we would talk to and see each other on the computer's camera, the way we did before I came. But then, he didn't really know who Savta was, as he had never seen me before. Now, I had practically lived with them for two months, so he now knows who Savta is. I hope. His little sister, all of one year and nine months, probably will forget me--but hopefully, not my songs: I sang them to sleep many nights, and my son knows some of them--the Hebrew ones, at least. But he doesn't know the Yiddish ones that my grandmother sang to me, which I now am singing to my grandchildren, and the beat goes on...
I am planning on (bli neder) recording me singing these songs and sending my son an MP3 file, so they can hear these songs every night, if they so choose. The songs include Hebrew bedtime songs such as Numi Numi, Lailah Lailah, and Yiddish songs such as Rozhinkes mit Mandlen, and several others whose names I don't even remember. Then I top them off (after singing with them the "Shma" and "Hamal'ach Hago'el Oti of course) with some American songs. One of their favorites is "Oh Shenandoah."
My daughter has her work cut out for her now. She has to work through the intense pain to desensetize her legs and eventually, hopefully soon--"reset" her brain to realized that there is nothing wrong with her legs. I wish I could be there, every day, to visit her and encourage her and see her through this. But for now, I can't.
I know it's a little odd ending this trip with an American song--I should be ending with an Israeli one--but this spiritual resonates with my mood. Sad. Longing. Hoping...
Comments
Refuah shleimah to your daughter. Strength and health to all your family.
להתראות ושבת שלום