A lone flower spurs memories of my soldier son, who died nine years ago in the springtime
A lone anemone, petals open to the sky, catches my eye as I cross the trampled lawn in the park near my home. In other parks and vacant lots, the flowers appear in exuberant flocks, patch after patch of red within the sun’s incarnation in green, the smiles of springtime’s return. This flower stands alone, vulnerable to the feet of ball-playing children and the paws of racing dogs. Tears come to my eyes.
It’s the Shabbat in the middle of the Pesach holiday. Nine years ago, on this Shabbat, my younger son Niot died.… continue reading at The Times of Israel
Previous Necessary Stories about Niot:
Meditation: Remembering my son Niot z”l
Four Waterfalls, One Hidden
Meditation: Seven years without my son, Niot.
Third Day of Spring
Meditation: Planting flowers at my son’s grave.
The Day of His Birth
Meditation: On the death of my son.
A Him to him
Meditation: A letter to Bach on the loss of my son.
Meditation: The Seder, chamber music, and the death of my son.
Meditation: Mourning my son, four years later
Meditation: When a child dies, he becomes incessantly present.
Grasping the Void
Meditation: Five years without my son