Sunday, June 26, 2005

He Who Lies With Butterflies Now

Six months ago, a man was beautiful. He had always been beautiful.

Six months ago, a man was so very happy. He was travelling the world, a very typical Israeli rite of passage before fully embracing adulthood, even though he'd been an adult for quite some time now. He laughed often.

Six months ago, the man had the best time meeting new people, trying out new foods, new belly ache reasons, basking in the glorious Asian sun. Basking anywhere really was something he had always been rather good at, instant napper that he was.

Six months ago today, a man was sleeping, early in the morning.

Six months ago today, the man was killed. Uzi, my Tig.

But he had been fast asleep. He HAD to have been fast asleep, despite his aching belly, so fast that when The Wave crashed on him, he barely would have had time to be frightened. He would have fought hard, oh he'd have fought so very hard, for he was a Silent Warrior. But it had to have been over swiftly. Oh please, that it was over swiftly.

Tig, this is for you. Let this be my gift to you. I still don't know what to do with myself. I still don't know how it is possible to go on without you. I still don't see how it will ever come to happen, how it will ever make any sense. Techiat hametim now. PLEASE. I have so many good things happening in my life, things you'd love, things that would make you laugh. I have so many new books that you simply must read. I have to tell you that I may be visiting Israel, that there is someone you will love to meet, you can roll your eyes at me together, and that we must sit outside your room eating garinim, drinking coke and beer and playing Risk. Do you remember how high our laughter echoes on the kibbutz, how time seems to move slower in those summer evenings, bringing even the matzav to a standstill? Remember how someone will sometimes walk by and say Erev tov or A'alan, and we'll say it back? How the cows mooing and the refet sounds blend in with our voices and everyone but me complains abt the smell? Do you remember how synaesthesially green the grass smells when the sprinklers go off and we all sit outside, sometimes silent, and into that silence cricket sounds spill and we think Life has to be the absolute best thing about living?

I keep it all in though. I've been keeping it all in, don't know why. I've hardly blogged or talked abt you for a good while now but the flashbacks have been back, the silent or not so silent movie running parallel to the rest of my mind, and I swallow back the tears very often these days. I don't want to cry over you anymore bcs I kill you every single time I do, and it kills me. Often I want to ring Lila but I don't. I want to write to her but I don't. I want to ring your mum but I don't. I rang L. though, on Yanniv's Jahrzeit. Didn't help much either, he was 23 years old. You were 28. Yanniv's been dead 5 years and you...

I suppose it's the six months. Half a year. Half a year is obscene in the sense that the earth has not derailed and how dared it not. I'm afraid I too will derail if I put it into words.

Ever since I wrote this, there have been butterflies everywhere I turn to, in clothes, houses, movies. I don't know if it's a new fashion trend but they are simply everywhere. Also outside my door, they fly about outside my door, sometimes alone, sometimes chasing each other. So I know you're around - but it's not enough, you see. It will never be enough.


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At 26/6/05 02:42, Blogger Diana said...

Thinking of you, thousands of miles away. I also think of him when Sara and I watch the butterflies in our yard. (Colin and I planted special butterfly flowers in the garden this year.) Many hugs, sweetie.

At 26/6/05 03:45, Blogger Lord Chimmy said...

What a beautiful song. I am going to have to listen to it again...

I was wondering how you were hanging in there L. The butterflies aren't going to be enough, but at least they let you know he's there.

At 26/6/05 04:42, Blogger CarpeDM said...

That song was quite beautiful.

I don't think butterflies are such a fashion trend. You see them every once in awhile but not all the time. I really do believe that he is letting you know that he is still here and always will be.

Back during The Cancer Scare, Act One (you'll love this, it was when I had to get the mammogram), I had been sitting in the waiting room, waiting (didn't see that coming, did you?) and read an article about someone who didn't believe in life after death or that those who love us are still around. But their family member who died said they did and that every time they saw a penny, they should realize that they (deceased person) was thinking of them. I'm not sure if that sentence will make any sense but you know what I mean.

Anyway, the article went on to say about how the survivor suddenly kept seeing pennies everywhere. Whenever they were feeling low, they would look down and there would be a penny.

That day, I was scared to death and I asked my grandmother for a sign that she was still there. I looked down on the floor and there was a penny. I swear it had not been there before. And not only that, but right before I got called back for the test, this car commercial came on tv and the song they were using was pennies from heaven and thousands of pennies were falling from the sky.

So it isn't enough that the butterflies are there, I know. It's not enough that there are the pennies. But we know that they are still there and they love us and that they are watching us.

And wow, this is a really long comment. Sorry. Anyway, I love you and think of you daily. Beijos!

At 26/6/05 07:15, Blogger brooksba said...

The song is beautiful and quite a gift. I still think of Uzi every time I see a butterfly. I think that he does watch over you, he is happy for the joy that is in your life, and I understand that it isn't enough. Your words have brought him to so many, love for him is in abundance.

I think of you and him often. Hugs to you.


At 26/6/05 16:31, Blogger 4 leaf clover said...

hugs. hugs. hugs. hugs. more hugs.

At 26/6/05 18:56, Blogger Kristin said...

Thinking of you, Uzi, and all the others lost that horrible day. Much love and many prayers being sent to you my friend.

At 27/6/05 01:48, Blogger Jen P said...

Thinking of you. Not knowing what to say, because you've said it all so well.

Weeping quietly for your loss.

At 27/6/05 10:21, Blogger Ana said...

I'm glad you wrote about it. I'm thinking of you.

At 27/6/05 12:49, Blogger Bubbi said...

Deep sorrow--I too know this---maybe it dulls only to be resurrected by some random something.

I am sorry--now I am rambling.
Great song!

At 27/6/05 14:01, Blogger Nana said...

Really touching. I wish you all the strenght in the world.

At 27/6/05 15:54, Blogger Lorem ipsum said...

Tears, tears, tears, washing into the Atlantic and all the way to your shore, then down around the African continent and into the Indian sea far away... never old, forever young he is.

At 27/6/05 22:23, Blogger Scully said...

I was thinking about you when the anniversary came about this weekend.

At 28/6/05 00:42, Anonymous Manuela said...

What a beautiful tribute...

I'm so incredibly sorry for this painful loss.

At 28/6/05 03:38, Blogger Candace said...

The lump in my throat and the ache in my heart will never match the sense of loss you will feel for the rest of your life.

And as trite and cliched as this will sound: you'll feel better someday. Someday it won't hurt to think of him. It'll be bittersweet and melancholic, but it won't HURT.

And that's a good thing. I know sometimes our inclination is to keep the pain close, so we don't forget. But keeping the pain so close only serves to hurt you in the end. Don't let it go, but don't hold on to it, either. It will fade.

And then you'll be able to think of your Uzi with love and gratitude that he was a part of your life.

The butterflies will keep coming as long as you need them to.

At 28/6/05 06:38, Blogger treppenwitz said...

May you be comforted...

At 29/6/05 07:11, Blogger paulmonster said...

Comfort, and tender loving goodness.

At 29/6/05 18:05, Blogger cat said...

At a tea party the other day there was a big beautiful butterfly that kept joining the group and flitting off to play in the high grass then back again.

When I see them now there is a little part of him in every butterfly. You did that for me, made it sweet and melancholy.

Wishing you comfort.

At 29/6/05 19:38, Blogger Udge said...

He is not forgotten. Liebevolle Umarmungen und viele bunte Schmetterlinge aus Stuttgart.

At 30/6/05 19:30, Blogger Serialangel said...

I never see butterflies anymore. From your beautiful post, I've just realised I haven't seen any since last summer. I always used to try and catch the white ones, although I never did. I miss them now, though.
Full condolences,
Betty xxx

At 1/7/05 18:57, Blogger Lorem ipsum said...

ps I see tons of butterflies now. He is everywhere.

At 5/7/05 00:48, Blogger Panda said...

I'm sitting here on the other side of the world with tears streaming down my face and onto my keyboard, crying over the pain of loss experienced by a woman I've never met.

I understand that pain all too well, and you expressed it so beautifully.

Thankyou for sharing it.


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