On November 13th, 2008, around noontime, my life changed forever. Losing the love of your life to depression-induced suicide is NOT the same as losing your loved one to a physical disease. It’s NOT. An ill person fights back, even if passively. A person who commits suicide has given up. Not only on himself, but also on his loved ones.
I know he was in terrible pain.
I know he was frightened by the prospects of having to deal with this abhorrent bipolar roller-coaster of formidable yet exhilarating highs and then the inevitable, devastating lows for the rest of his days.
As if that were not challenging enough, Cancer flippantly tossed itself into the equation, gnawing away at his back, pushing him over the edge.
But I also know that the fact that he gave up his fight for survival means that I – that WE – were not enough to love for, to fight tooth and nail to survive for. Is it selfish of me to think so? Maybe.
But it was selfish of him to leave.
He promised me; swore to me, he would never hurt himself.
He lied.
Laurie used to ask me: “How much do you love me?”
My staple response was always: “Twice as much as yesterday, half as much as tomorrow.”
What happens when there are no more “tomorrows”?
Losing Laurie Photo from a project by Yuval Shifroni
About the Author
The writer (aka "Zioness on the Border" on social media) is a mother and a grandmother who since 1975 has been living and raising her family on Kibbutz Nirim along the usually paradisiacal, sometimes hellishly volatile border with the Gaza Strip. She founded and moderates a 14K-strong Facebook group named "Life on the Border with Gaza".
The writer blogs about the dreams and dramas that are part of border kibbutznik life. Until recently, she could often be found photographing her beloved region, which is exactly what she had planned to do at sunrise, October 7th. Fortunately, she did not go out that morning. As a result, she survived the murderous terror infiltrations of that tragic day, hunkering down in her safe room with her 33-year-old son for 11 terrifying hours. So many of her friends and neighbors, though, were not so lucky. More than she can even count.
Adele was an educator for 38 years in her regional school, and has been one of the go-to voices of the Western Negev when escalations on the southern border have journalists looking for people on the ground. On October 7, her 95% Heaven transformed into 100% Hell. Since then she has given a multitude of interviews, going abroad on seven missions in support of Israel and as an advocate for her people. In addition to fighting the current wave of lies and blood libels about the Jewish state, she is raising money to help restore their Paradise so that members of her kibbutz can return to their homes on the border, where they can begin to heal.
If you wish to learn more about how you can help her and her community return home, please feel free to drop her a line.
