It has now been a little over a month since I moved to Vietnam, and I must say that things are going great. I am very truly happy with my life here. Of course things are not perfect, but this is the best I have felt in a very long time.
But I must say, that there are times that I feel bad for being so happy, so soon after my parents were killed. I remember after being told that my parents didn't survive, that I could not imagine ever being happy again. And yet, its less then a year later and I am doing great.
I remember at one point during my stay in the rehab center, I was feeling very lonely at nights. I felt that pretty much everyone in my family was married and could lean on their partner for support, but I was single and had to get through the sad nights alone. So I started to visit online dating sites to chat with guys in an attempt to find some kind of companionship. I even thought that maybe I would find someone that I could possibly be with once I got out of the rehab center. But this made me feel very guilty. How could I be thinking about dating so soon after loosing my parents?
I mentioned to a friend that I had been visiting online dating sites and talking to people in an attempt to find some companionship. I told her how guilty I felt because of this. She told me that I should not feel guilty, and that life has to go on. Sitting around and wallowing in sadness for the sake of being sad does no good for anyone. Of course she was right. So why do I now still feel guilty sometimes for having moved on with my life?
There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about my parents. I miss them terribly. I wish I could share with them all the wonderful experiences I am having. I wish that I could speak to them and try and convince them to come out here and visit me. I know that they didn't think so, but they would have really enjoyed a trip out here.
My parents deaths have left a hole in my life that nothing can ever fill. No matter how happy I ever am, they will always be missing. My life will never feel a hundred percent right. But staying sad all the time for the sake of staying sad helps no one. So I've moved on.
I know that there are people that have a set idea of how much time after a tragedy someone must wait before moving and rebuilding. Some people get this amount of time based on their religious beliefs, some might come up with a number based on certain "social standards". Growing up as an Orthodox Jew, I was always told that this was 11 months. But the truth is that the number varies from person to person. Some people need to mourn longer and some need to move on quicker. Any attempt to force someone into some uniformed standard will probably do more harm then good.
There will be a moment every day for the rest of my life that I think about how I lost my parents and I will be sad. But the moment will pass and I will go on doing what I have to in order to be happy. A life spent being miserable is not a life that I would want to live. So I've moved on.
Its been about two weeks since I last posted and a very eventful and busy two weeks at that. In fact, I will probably have to divide the events into multiple posts. But the most important bit of news is, I am finally in Vietnam. Years of dreaming, planning, and overcoming obstacles have finally led to this moment.
Over the weeks leading up to my arrival in Vietnam, my friends kept asking me if I was excited yet. I always answered, not yet, but probably when I am on the plane. But once I was on the plane, I still was not excited. After my string of bad luck, I guess I was still prepared for something to go wrong. But nothing went wrong and as soon as my plane touched down in Hanoi, I became so excited and was smiling from ear to ear.
I was met at the airport by my dear friend Hoang. It was so wonderful and emotional seeing him for the first time in nearly two years. The truth is that I was a bit nervous that after not seeing each other for so long, it might be hard to get back into our old the rhythm of joking around. But my concerns were unwarranted. It was as if no time had passed. That is the way it is with special friendships.
Me and Hoang
After a week or so of bouncing around and a trip to Bangkok (I hope to write about the trip in a different post), I finally found the apartment that I will be calling home for the near future. It is a really nice apartment, large roomy and comfortable.But more interesting then the apartment itself, is the location. Back in 2011, during my trip to Vietnam, the area around Truch Bach lake became one of my favorite places in the city. When I was bored, I use to go ride around the lake and enjoy the view and cool air. And now, nearly two years later, I am living about a 1 minute walk away from the lake. During all those many drives around the lake, I never even imagined I could live there, and yet here I am.
Truch Bach Lake
My whole moving to Vietnam can be looked at in a similar way. While I had planned this and wanted it for a while, the accident, the loss of my parents and my injuries really could have put an end to my plans. I know that many of my friends told me that they expected me to give up on this particular dream after the accident. But I did not. A mere 7 months after everything was destroyed, I am living a dream and for the most part, I am happy.
When I landed in America last September 10th, I was coming for a 9 day trip to visit my parents during the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashana. I was so excited for this visit, because me and my parents were getting along really well after sometime of awkwardness and we were as close as ever. I would never in a million years had guessed that there would be a horrible accident that would leave me badly injured and without parents.
For the last 5 months I have been in New Jersey slowly recovering from my injuries, both mentally and physically. I have undergone multiple surgeries and months of physical and occupational therapy. Throughout this time I have been surrounded by amazing, caring and loving people. My aunt and uncle have stepped up to help guide me through the medical and legal issues surrounding the accident. My parents friends have been a constant source of support and friendship. My life long friends have been by my side to help me with anything I could need. Two friends in particular opened up their home to me and allowed me to live with them over the last few months.
I have also met many new and wonderful people that helped me and forever left their mark on my life. Many members of the online community of formerly religious Jews made the effort to come visit me in this hospital and the rehab center. Today I am lucky enough to consider these people real friends. There is also my friend David who has been a source of happiness and companionship and his wonderful family that warmly welcomed me into their home.
I do not know how I would have gotten through this hard period of my life without all these people. I can never find the words to express my gratitude to everyone, but suffice it to say that I am eternally grateful.
Now it is time for me to move on. My recovery has progressed to the point that I am ready to return to Israel where there is a whole new set of challenges waiting for me. I am extremely apprehensive about going back, but I know that this is the necessary next step on my path to find happiness. And while I am leaving the wonderful people that were so supportive of me while I was here in New Jersey, I will soon have my dear friends in Israel to help me through the next chapter.
A common phrase used by some religious leaders to both put down atheist and forward their own agenda is, "there are no atheists in foxholes". The sentiment behind this line is that when someone's life is in danger, everyone will turn to "god". After all, many religious leaders dismiss atheists as nothing more than childish rebels, rebelling for the sake of rebelling. They do not acknowledge the fact that most atheists have well thought out reasons based on logic and evidence as to why they do not believe in religion. And if this were true, when faced with their mortality, these rebels would be likely to "return to 'god'" to save their lives. However, this is not the case and of this, I am living proof.
I will never forget the horrible pain of the car hitting me on the sidewalk this past September. The pain was so intense and so total that I remember clearly thinking, "OK this is it, I am dying" and excepting the fact that my life was over. I did not think about "god" or religion.
Well I did not die. I laid on the ground with my elbow shattered, bones sticking out of my arm and my foot twisted and facing the wrong way. When I was made aware that we were all struck by a car and that I did not know what happened to my parents, I panicked. I screamed and begged the EMTs and the good samartitans that had come over to help us to tell me what was going on with my parents. No one told me. When I was brought to the ER, I literally asked everyone I saw for information on my parents conditions, but no one would tell me.
I do not know exactly how long it was until I learned that my parents were in fact killed, but it seemed like a couple of hours. During those hours I cried and I begged for information. I never once thought about a "god". I never once prayed to "god" to ask for "its" help.
I know many people will dismiss my lack of belief in any deity by saying I am just angry at god. But this is not the case because I am an atheist. I really, honestly do not believe that there is a god. How could I be angry at something that I do not think exists? How could I turn to such a thing for help in my time of need? I could no more turn to a unicorn, or a dragon, or a wizard in my time of need. If in my mind, I really thought that there was any chance of their being a god that could listen to my prayers and help, I assure you I would have prayed and prayed a lot. But the thought never occurred to me.
I am not writing this because I am trying to use the killing of my parents to "spread atheism". I really do not care what other people genuinely believe (unless their beliefs come to hurt me or others). However, after hearing over and over again that "there are no atheists in foxholes", I wanted to show that this is not true. This also shows that my atheism is not just a rebellion based on "anger". I have been accused of being an atheist because I am angry about being gay (which I am not). And since the accident, I was told that I am an atheist just because I am angry at "god" for killing my parents. But "god" did not kill my parents so I cannot be angry at "it".
Even further, while many believers believe that it is in the "foxholes of life" that people will turn to "god", to me, the "foxholes of life" reconfirm that there is no loving, protecting god. I do not think that a loving protecting god would allow for war and genocide. I do not think that a loving and protecting god would have allowed my parents to be killed because some irresponsible moron decided to be a total idiot and drive with a big wild dog, loose in the front seat. When I see everything that can go wrong with the world, why would that lead me, or anyone to think that there is an omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient god?
This past Thursday, I was finally released from the rehabilitation center. This means that my injuries are healed to the point that I do not need constant supervision and that I can continue my therapy at a facility that I do not live at 24/7. All in all this is great news!
Now that I am out of therapy, I needed a place to live in New Jersey until I get well enough to go back to Israel. (I could not live in my parents house for various reasons). So I am staying with two friends of mine that I grew up with that married each other and their four children. Their kids are 7 and under which is quite the change from all the 80 and 90 year old people that were at the rehab center with me. Kids are energetic and lively, which is much nicer then grumpy and tired.
One interesting side effect caused by being out of rehab is that I find myself being reminded about my parents more frequently. This is not to say that I was not thinking about them every day before. In rehab, my injuries were a constant reminder of the accident that led to my parents being killed. But now I am being reminded about what life was like with them, as opposed to without them.
For example, the family I am staying with is a religious, orthodox Jewish family. That means this past weekend, they celebrated the Jewish sabbath in the traditional fashion. When I saw my friends with their kids at the table for the sabbath meal, it reminded me of my childhood with my parents. Seeing my friend bless his kids Friday night was a strong reminder of how my father blessed me every Friday of my life. Even if he was not near me physically, he always made sure to speak to me before the sabbath via phone. While this tradition did not have any specific meaning to me any more, it had great meaning to my parents and I always appreciated that.
My parents looking very happy at synagogue social event
While I was in rehab I knew that once I was released I would feel the gap left by my parents deaths in a very different way. While I was going through such a hard time with my injuries, I wished I had my parents who were always supportive through life's rough moments. But now that I am getting back to "normal life" that my parents had been a constant presence in, their absence is constant. I pay a bill, I think about how my father taught me financial responsibility and constantly checked in on me to offer guidance and help. I go shopping, I think of the countless times I went shopping with my mom. I drive around East Brunswick, the town my parents called home, I am constantly reminded of different times I was with them around the town.
I know as time passes I will feel the lose of my parents in countless different ways. One day if I am lucky enough to meet the man that I will marry, I will not be able to introduce him to my parents. If I am lucky enough to have kids, my parents will never get to meet these grandchildren and my kids will be robbed of having the most amazing grandparents ever. The list can go on and on. But in short, my parents will always be missing for the rest of my life.
It is a sad fact that death is a major part of life.The chances are that the longer you live, the more encounters with death you will experience. While ideally most of the people that a person will know that die will be old and have lived full lives, this is not always the case. The early death of young people was a topic of conversation in my life from a very young age. My father's brother, my Uncle Natan was killed in a car accident shortly after my birth. In fact my sister Natanya was named for our uncle. Growing up, we were both told many stories about what a wonderful and amazing person Uncle Natan was and how much everyone loved him. I remember asking my mom once when I was little if Uncle Natan was so wonderful and was not old, how come he died. I was told that god had taken him "because he was too good for this earth."
My next experience with someone dying "before their time" was sadly a childhood friend. When I was about 13 or 14 years old, I had a friend from the neighborhood who was 12 years old who died from cancer. Our families were close friends and I had known him for most of my young life. He was the nicest kid and everyone loved him. I remember when I was told that he had died once again being confused. How was it that such a good and young person could die? But then I remembered the explanation my mother had given me about my uncle's death and it seemed to make sense for my friend's death as well.
The next time death of a young person became part of my life was when I was around 15 years old. In this case, it is not an actual death, but rather the threat of death. As I have written about in previous posts that after a rabbi taught me that gay people deserve to die, I began to expect my own death all of the time. Whether in a plane going through turbulence, or in a car making a sharp turn, I would often think to myself, "this is when god is going to kill me." The thought of my early death became a regular part of my daily life.
The death of young people returned to my life in the summer of 2006 while I was serving in the Israeli Army during the war in Lebanon. While I knew 11 people that were killed in the war, there were 3 that I knew very well. The first was my friend Kobi who was 20 years old. We had completed basic training together. He was killed when his tank went up on a landmine. Next my friend Michael Levine who was a grade younger than me in our elementary school and we completed the Army's course for new immigrants together. Last was another friend named Ami that was in basic training with me. He was 22, newly married and expecting his first child when an anti-tank missile hit his tank and killed him. At this point in my life, I stopped asking for reasons and just accepted that we live every day under the treat of death.
And of course most recently I have suffered through the death of my parents, who were killed in a car accident. My parents were 51 years old, an age that may have once seemed old to me when I was a kid, but I now realize how young my parents were. I was also badly hurt in that accident and am still working on my recovery 2 months later. It is not lost on me, how close I came to being killed as well.
All of these experiences have lead me to have a very strong awareness of my mortality. I know that life can end at any moment. I also know that as things are right now in my life, I am not happy. The idea that I could die before ever having found my happiness is very scary and it motivates me to go out and find my happiness. I know the last time I felt truly happy was when I was in Vietnam. It is an amazing environment and culture that suits me well. I have met the most amazing friends there and even had some dating success during my short time there. I am sure that for these reasons, along with many other reasons, his is a step in the right direction for me. However, there are a growing number of obstacles that are delaying my departure and this causes me to worry.
What if something were to happen to me? I am terrified that the longer I delay my plan, the greater the chances I myself could die before having a chance to go. While I know this is not the right way to see life, after all that has happened, who can blame me for me for being so aware of my mortality? But the truth is that no one knows when their time will come. The chances of me dying are no greater than anyone else dying. I just have to keep searching for my happiness and hope for the best. And frankly, I am sick and tired of death and I am looking forward to being able to focus on life.
After the tragedy of my parents being killed, many people that knew them over the years came to express their condolences to me, as well as to visit me in the hospital. It is truly remarkable how hurtful, callus, and tackless people can be in spite of their good intentions. I will not repeat any names or how the people who's comments will be repeated here are connected to my family. My intent is not to embarrass or hurt anyone. However, I do hope that after reading this, people might think twice before they open their mouths to talk to people that are grieving and/or hurt. And of course, I am writing this to vent my hurt and frustration.
I will start with the most ridiculus thing said to me. This person came to visit me in the rehab center where I am recovering from my injuries. They looked at me and said "at least we now have two strong advocates for Romney's victory in heaven". I don't know why this person thought this would be helpful for me to hear, or why they think dead people help change the results of elections. This person was also so close minded that they never thought I might have different political beliefs them their own. Frankly, I found the comment to be belittling of my loss and down right stupid.
Of course their were the tens of people that told me that "god" simply wanted my parents closer to "him". These are the same people that would tell me "god" is everywhere. But even if "god" does have a home in the sky where he hangs out with dead people, I would say "he" is a selfish, cruel "god" that could have waited patiently another 50-80 years before putting my family through this pain. And isn't "god" beyond time? This sort of comment might help a young child, but I find it hurtful and condescending.
I was told by one person that that a slight high point is that I would not have to "deal with my parents aging and will always remember them young and strong". I understand what this person was trying to say, especially now being in a rehab center surrounded by seniors with dementia. However, I would gladly deal with my parents aging and still have them here with me. This was not comforting in the least.
One person heard all that happened and looked at me and said, "with all this bad happening around you, you should probably be praying more". This small minded, cruel individual was of course implying that had I been sucking up to "god" more, then he wouldn't have hit us with a car. What a loving "god" to worship. This also implies that it was somehow my fault that this happened. Obviously this is not helpful or comforting. It is cruel, evil and self righteous.
Another person actually had the nerve to basically ask for a donation for a memorial plaque for my parents. Of course they asked while I was lying in bed at the rehab center, left leg and arm in splints and on bed rest because of complications. This person could not think about anyone other themselvesand money. I'm sure I don't have to explain why this was the wrong thing for this person to do.
There were people that in one sentence tried to tell me that it was "god's" plan to kill my parents and that the only way I could get through this trauma was by returning to "god" and embracing "him". So "god" killed my parents AND will help me deal with my emotional loss? Isn't that called Stockholm Syndrome? There was another person that told me "god" killed my parents as a test to me, to see how I would handle it. This is kind of like how the mafia does things, no? They will kill someone close to you so that you stay loyal to them. Or maybe you will go to to the police? So "god" is a super human mafioso I guess. Sometimes it is obvious people do not think before talking.
Another person went to the shiva (a Jewish wake) and approached my maternal grandparents and asked who they were. My grandfather explained that they are Sari's parents. To which this person responded, "who is that?" Needless to say my grandparents were mortified. If you do not know the deceased or their family, don't go to console them! It's an empty gesture that is only making you feel better and can be hurtful to the family if you are a tactless moron like this person.
Speaking of self serving, empty gestures. One day some rabbi came to my hospital room with three little children. I looked up from the bed at four smiling faces that I did not know. I asked, "did you know my parents?" The father answered me with a huge happy grin on his face, "no, but we heard about the accident and we came to do the mitzvah (good deed) of visiting the sick." I felt like saying
that I was so glad that I was hit by a car so they could get their newest merit badge. These were people that were just going through the motions because that was what they were taught to do, not because it is the right thing to do or because they want to help.
I know that none off these people were trying to be hurtful, but they all were. I understand that sometimes people don't know what to say. So don't say anything! And DO NOT ever try and take advantage of someone's loss by trying to get money, or to push your religious agenda. This is called being selfish and emotionally abusive.
The first time I ever went into a house of mourning, my father told me not to say anything, unless someone speaks to me first. This was a great lesson. It lets those grieving have the choice of who to speak to and stops people from feeling the need to have something to say even if they can only come up with half thoughts like those mentioned above. I do really appreciate the good intentions of most of the people who said these things, however, I just wish they had thought before saying such hurtful things.
Since the accident that left my parents dead and me and two great family friends injured, I have been on an emotional roller coaster. There are times that I am sad of course. But there are also times that I am OK. In fact most of the time I am OK and often even happy. I know many people expect me to be a depressed mess, but I am trying to move on. And thanks to the wonderful support of family and friends, I am doing fine most of the time and really moving on.
But of course there are still times that I am sad. I very much miss my parents and at times the feeling overwhelms me. But I manage to get past the sadness and continue moving forward and and I try to be positive. The one emotion that I have the most trouble dealing with when it comes is anger. Lately when I get angry, I am really not sure what to do, except go to sleep and hope that when I wake up it will have passed.
What am I angry at? In short, almost everything. I am angry that some random person that had nothing to do with my life, was irresponsible while driving and now because of her my parents are dead and my elbow and ankle have been severely injured. I am angry that every time it pops into my head to talk to my parents, I can't because they are dead and always will be dead. The permanence of death angers me.
I was brought up to believe that death was just physical and that people live on in an after life. Now that I can no longer believe this, I am furious at the totality of my parents death. I am angry that my parents truly believed that by following what they believed to be the will of "god" they would be protected and given long lives. And despite their belief and dedication, while walking with me and their closest friends on the sabbath, a day that they "kept holy" as they believed they were commanded to, they were run over by a car and killed. I am angry for my parents because I believe they were lied to (not maliciously) and given false promises.
I'm angry for my injuries and for the injuries of our dear friends that were hit as well. I cannot speak for them, but I am angry that I am always in pain. I am angry that at the moment, neither my leg nor my arm work like they should. I am angry that I am completely dependent on the help of others while I spend most of my day in a hospital bed.
I am angry at all the horrible things people have told me while being well intentioned. I don't want to hear about "god's will" or "god's plan". I really, wholeheartedly believe there is no god. But should there be one, his plan is evil and his will is demented.
I am angry that in my close family circle that is dealing with this tragedy, I am the only single - as in unattached - person. I love my sister and brother in law. I love all four of my grandparents and I'm grateful to still have them in my life. I love my aunts and uncles and i love all my parents close friends that are for all intents and purposes are part of my family. But at the end of the day, when the lights go off, they each have their life partner, their soul mate, their lover to help each other through this horrible tragedy.
At the end of the day, when the light go off I am alone. I have no one to talk to as I fall asleep. I have no one to share my nightmares and dreams with when I'm woken in the middle of the night and no one to hold me and hug me when that is what I need.
At some point the anger always fades. I go back to my normal mood. But even after I calm down, I know that at some point I will get angry again. I know that because I have every reason to be angry over all the things I mentioned above. I'm not a little kid and I have known for a long time that life isn't fair. But I never expected to have this much "not fair" shoved down my throat at once. But what can I do? Nothing. I just have to accept it all and move on. I'm trying and I will, but it sure isn't easy.
Since the accident that killed my parents and left me badly injured, I have struggled with the desire to pick up the phone and update my parents about different events. I used to speak to my mother almost daily and my father multiple times a week. Any time anything interesting, significant, important, etc happened, I would pick up the phone and tell one of them. So I have decided to write them a letter telling them much of what I wish I could say. While I know my parents are dead and cannot read the letter, I hope it might help me deal with this desire to update them.
My Parents
Dear Mommy and Abba,
So much has been going on sine you were suddenly killed. Natanya (my sister) is working so hard at trying to keep everything in order, with the amazing help of Aunt Marcia, Andrew and so so so many of your friends. She is so strong that it really amazes me st times. I wish you could see her. And you should see how well we are getting along. I know that would make you happier than words can describe. And I don't think there will ever be a way to express our gratitude to them. So I hope you are not worried for us, although I know you well enough to know that you are. No matter what, you always worried that Natanya and I were safe and happy.
You should also know I am being taken cared of very well while I'm still stuck in rehab. Ben even got permission to work from home sometimes so he can work here and help pass the day with me. All of your friends, from Philadelphia, East Brunswick,and even Maale Adummim are always helping me out and visiting me often. It seems that I have even become friends with some of your friends. You really choose amazing people to befriend.
I am slowly recovering from my injuries, although I still cannot walk. Physical and occupational therapy is going very well and I have become friends with my therapists.. I can even bend my elbow to 80 degrees now which is much better than when I fainted by trying to bend it 60 degrees.. I know you would be excited. Its not easy and is often very painful. Sometimes when I am in the most pain, all I can think about is being able to talk to you. You were always so good at talking me through pain. And now that I am in the worst pain of my life, and you are not here, it is sometimes very difficult.
But I never give up. I am doing everything I must to get better and move on. And sometimes I even think of you favorite saying Abba, "successful people do the things that unsuccessful people don't want to do." I know I use to laugh whenever you would say that, but it is a good motivational line.
I guess if I really wanted to, I could keep writing forever because you have missed so much. But I will spare you. Just know that I really really miss you and love you. I still cannot comprehend how one moment you were together a few feet from me and then you were suddenly gone forever. I don't know if I will ever get rid of the constant desire to call you all the time. I am glad we shared so much while you
were alive so that now I have so many conversations which to look back. There are many things that I wish I had shared with you, but now I cannot.
I will miss you every day for the rest of my life. You were the greatest parents anyone could ever imagine.
I love you both so much and I am so lucky to be your son.
Love forever,
Ami
When my parents were killed, we were all walking together and my father was in the middle of a sentence. And then the car hit and my parents are gone forever. One second I was thinking to myself what a wonderful time I am having with my parents and how lucky I am to have such amazing parents, the next second I am lying on the ground, unable to move, severely injured and both my parents are dead.
The strongest lesson that I have learned over the last few weeks is that at any moment life can be completely changed and turned upside down and that any moment life can be over. My parents had everything going for them. My dad was at the top of his career. Both my parents were leaders of their community and they just been picked as honorees at their synagogue's annual dinner. They fulfilled some of their greatest dreams by traveling all over the world. And above everything else, my patents loved being grandparents and would travel to Israel to see their grandchildren as often as possible. They were so happy and then in one moment it was over
As for myself, I was a healthy 27 year old, stressing over my thesis and work. One moment later, I needed 3 surgeries, I can't use my left limbs for 6 weeks and I have months of physical therapy ahead of me. I also realize that I could have easily been killed had i been standing slightly different or moved and inch one way or the other.
I have so much I still want to accomplish and do with my life. I want to finish school. I want to go live in Vietnam. I want to travel. I want to spend more time with the people that mean the most to me. And perhaps my greatest desire, I want to find love. I know that might seem very "Disney" to some and maybe even immature, but it really is the one attainable goal that I want more than any other. I want someone to share my life with. Since life can be just hanging by a thread at any given moment, I really do not want to waste any moment.
I want to live my life like my parents lived theirs. They never missed an opportunity to fulfill a dream or achieve a goal. Whatever they did in life, they did it as grandly as they could. And more important than anything else, whatever they did, they did it together.
The last few years of my life have been quite the roller coaster. It was not a simple time in my life or for anyone close to me. But you, my amazing friend stuck by me.
It all began with what many saw as my abrupt exit from Judaism, which was actually the culmination of years of struggle and confusion. While many stood in judgement of me and some even cut me from their life, you stood by me as I learned to see the world through new eyes.
Of course the next major change in my life was not easy either. When I first told you that I was gay, you may or may not have been surprised. But you saw how terrified I was to share this once deep secret. Without missing a beat, you hugged me and told me that I had nothing to fear. You said that you loved me and that anyone else that loved me would continue to do so, no matter what. You once again stood by me as I learned more about myself then ever before.
And of course you are still with me today, as I struggle through the most difficult calamity and change in my life. When that horrid person lost control of her car and killed my parents, while severely injuring myself and two loved ones, you rushed to my side. You were practically tripping over yourself trying to figure out how else you could help. You are here to help me deal with my emotional trauma and to support me through the healing process for my physical injuries. I do not know how I would get through all this without your loving friendship.
I would like to tell you how much you mean to me, but the words simply do not exist. You are an amazing, wonderful person and I love you very much. If it was not for you, I do not how my life would look, but I am sure it would worse off.
It has been a long time since I last posted in my blog. That is because 12 days ago on Saturday, September 15th a horrific tragedy struck my family. I was in New Jersey visiting my family. I joined my parents for Sabbath services and while walking to the house of dear family friends for lunch, a driver lost control of her car, went up on the curb and hit my parents, our friends and myself. Me and our two friends were badly hurt and my parents were killed.
My Parents
We left the synagogue after services and started walking with a large group of friends towards our friend's house. I was actually walking a bit ahead of everyone and my mom sped up to catch up with me. Me and my mom were just chatting about nothing particular as the large group followed behind.
When we reached the first corner me and my mom stopped and let the group catch up. As the reached the corner I could see that everyone was standing around my dad and they were hanging on his every word. My dad had an amazing, out going personality and he was often the center of attention because people loved to hear him speak. One of our friends said to me, "can you tell your father to move faster? I'm hungry and I want to get home." I smiled and replied, "you cannot bother my father while he is holding court." My mom was tired of waiting as well and continued to walk and called for me to follow.
While walking the next block, me and my mom spoke about her really cool new shoes for a bit and one of the friends followed closely behind. Behind him was my dad, the other friend and the group that was slowly shrinking as people turned down different directions towards their homes. I loved talking with my mom. We could talk about anything for hours. No matter what we talked about, whether it be shoes or life decisions, my mom was fully invested in the conversation. For her, the subject wasn't necessarily as important as the participants. She didn't care what me and her were speaking about, she just loved every moment we spent together.
There was a short lull in the conversation and my mom started talking with her friend. I thought to myself how much fun me and my parents were having during my visit and how thankful I was that we had gotten past all of our issues. I knew how hard it was for my parents to accept me as not religious and gay, yet they loved me so much that our relationship had been saved and was as strong as ever.
My father and the friend walking with him must have sped up, because we all reached the corner together. The five of us crossed the street together. When we reached the next corner, we started talking about an abandoned building on the corner. Me and my parents friends were a bit ahead of my parents who were now walking together, slightly behind us. My father started to talk and I looked back at him and saw him pointing at something on the building. I looked forward to see what my father was pointing at when suddenly I felt the most horrid pain. The pain was so strong, the only thought that went through my head was that I was being killed - that I was dead.
Next think I knew, I was on my back, looking up at the sky in horrible pain.I was not sure if I was dreaming or awake. I tried to move but couldn't. I started to scream out for help and because of the pain and people arrived on the scene. Because I was the only conscious victim, everyone ignored me at first and went to help the others. Eventually, EMTs (medics) arrived and started to help me. The one holding my head said "sir, you have been hit by a car." I was shocked. How did a car hit us? We were on the sidewalk. I noticed one of my parents friends next to me on the ground being treated as he screamed out for his wife.
I kept screaming and asking if my parents were OK, but they just kept telling me that they were there to help me. The fire department came and cut some wire that had fallen from a pole and landed on me. I was the last one taken away from the scene.
I was brought to the ER with my elbow broken into pieces and open, along with a broken ankle. I was told I would need multiple surgeries and that the first one was an emergency that could not wait. And after hours of asking every nurse and doctor that I saw about my parents, I was told that neither of them had survived.
And just like that, in a single moment, my world was shattered. My parents were wonderful people and amazing, loving parents and they had been taken from me and my sister. My two sets of grandparents each lost a child. Family and friends lost two people that they loved and cared for dearly.
After 3 surgeries, I am now in rehab. And even though I am in horrible pain and face a long road to recovery, I'm grateful that I was with my parents until the last moment of their lives. And even though it is very scary, I am thankful that I remember pretty much everything. I will forever remember being with my amazing parents until the last seconds of their lives. I would not trade that for anything.
I love and miss them more than words can express.
