Chag Sameach
Chag sameach is the traditional greeting said by Jews all over the world wishing one another a joyous holiday.
What once was a natural, spontaneous and joyous greeting is now, since the horror of October 7th , fraught with hesitation, doubt, and even fear.
I know those feelings all too well.
My son Ariel z”l ended his life by suicide on December 17th, 2016, after a 10-year struggle with depression and anxiety. The shock was piercing, the pain – shattering. We had a 30-hour nightmare of flying back home to Israel, organizing a funeral and sitting shiva in the house where our son had ended his life. When posting the funeral arrangements on Facebook, I felt scared and deeply ambivalent about writing the cause of death. I sensed that my life was forever altered, and that I needed to decide there and then whether to hide the truth of my son’s death, or to take on the mission of increasing the awareness of suicide and reducing its stigma and shame. Intuitively, I knew what I needed to do.
And I had yet another decision to make, since the first day of Hanukkah fell on December 24th, exactly one week later: Do I wallow in my anger, guilt and sorrow? Do I stop celebrating the joys of life and the joy of Jewish holidays? Or can I find a path through life with the ubiquitous pain in my heart, and still utter, despite our unbearable loss, chag sameach? Again, intuitively, I knew what I needed to do. One week after the loss of our son I did my best to wish friends, family and clients a chag Hanukkah sameach.
I had decided to live holding my sadness and joy side by side, accepting – and embracing – each emotion. Yet while the decision was clear, the process of implementing the decision has not been easy. I have chosen to ride through – to continue living and moving – but the mountains are steep, my legs burn, my heart hurts, and I often bleed and cry out in pain. But I also race down the hills – to feel the power, strength and joy of moving fast, of appreciating the blessings of life.
I dare not compare my journey to the incomprehensible and unforgivable loss of life on that Black Sabbath, and since.
But I can share from my experience of living with grief these past seven and a half years that saying chag sameach is an affirmation of life. While extending this greeting to others in no way mitigates my loss, refraining from saying it would not ease my sense of sadness, anger and guilt. For me, wishing others chag sameach is an expression of my choice to live life with both sadness and joy integrated into every fiber of my soul.
I understand and respect those who simply cannot or will not say chag sameach this Sukkot and Simchat Torah.
For now, though, I will continue to celebrate our holidays – even with the gaping hole in my heart and my deep yearning to sit with my dear son Ariel z”l in the Sukkah.
Chag sameach.