Grieving from across the world.

October 31, 2021.

I have really struggled to write this post. No matter how many times I tried, it just didn’t feel right. I contemplated if it was because this was just too raw–maybe it was something I just shouldn’t post online–but now I know it’s because the story wasn’t complete yet. 

Something my roommate, Katie, and I first bonded over when we met back in August was our biggest fear in moving here: losing our grandparents (my grandpa, Papa, and her grandma, Mamama) and not being home for it. We both had grown up extremely close to them. We both had witnessed their battles with cancer for 10+ years, along with various other health scares and complications; yet in the last few months we saw their health decline more rapidly and severely than ever before. We both said our goodbyes in August knowing that it would probably be the last time we saw them.

Losing a grandparent is heartbreaking. Losing a grandparent while living on the other side of the world, apart from all family, hurts in a completely different way than the loss itself. It’s a very unique kind of pain in which you feel alone and so extremely far removed. Three weeks ago it became a pain I understood.

It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to hear the news that my grandpa had passed away through the phone. Not being able to physically be there with my family and no way to truly “rush home” to get there was so sad and frustrating. The worst part was that I had nobody here that understood the feelings of loss and loneliness and helplessness that accompanied a situation like this. My roommates and friends were wonderful and did their best to help, but it’s just not the same when nobody else is grieving with you. 

After pleading with the Israeli government, I got the permission I needed to change my visa to fly home for the funeral and shiva. The relief I felt when I hugged my family, the heaviness of saying goodbye to Papa at the funeral, the tears, laughs, and everything else we managed to squeeze in in between–it all felt right. This is what Papa would’ve wanted: for his family to be together.

Coming back to Israel felt weird. I was so happy and eager to return, but it almost felt like I left my grief back in New York. I felt guilty for letting myself pretend it wasn’t happening–or didn’t happen–but it’s hard not to ignore when nobody else around you is also going through it. There are no reminders other than when I talk to my family on the phone. This life for me here has never been tied to him. 

Three short weeks later, Katie got the same heartbreaking news. When she told me, it was as if I found out about Papa all over again. It hurt in my chest so deeply I could’ve sworn I was reliving that night three weeks ago. I hurt for her because I physically felt her pain. I knew exactly what she was going through. I couldn’t believe it was also happening to her, and so soon after me.

I could make an entire blog post about all the freaky similarities between Papa and Mamama, our families, and the ways in which this all unfolded. Katie and I have spent so much time in the last few days discussing all the signs and connections, but I prefer for those to stay between us. What I choose to share on the internet is the connection I finally felt here. The peace I am beginning to feel just by talking to someone who understands, and by helping my friend through something I, too, am finding my way through. 

I can’t help feeling like this is it. This is the Universe, God, the magic of Israel, Papa, and Mamama, all working together to help us find peace. To help us help each other, grieve together, and just not be alone in this. 

Sitting at the kitchen table or in our room or on the beach, talking about Papa and Mamama–we grieve together. We talk, we cry, we laugh, we sit in the discomfort of grief. Most importantly, though, we went through it–and are getting through it–together. 

—-

I send my love and condolences to Katie’s family and friends who knew and loved Mamama. Katie spoke so highly of her and their memories together, and it is clear that she will be so deeply missed by all. What a wonderful legacy she leaves behind.

❤️ May Papa and Mamama’s memories forever be a blessing. ❤️

Faith in strangers.

September 22, 2021.

I could tell this story two ways. In one of these versions, I am cynical and angry at the people who stole from me and the police who did nothing to help. The other way I can do this is by focusing on the incredible Israeli strangers who helped me for no reason other than the kindness and compassion in their hearts. I choose to do the latter because, well, who wants to be angry and bitter when the universe is begging me to see the beauty of humanity?

With that being said, I’m sad to report my purse got stolen. My phone, credit cards, driver’s license, bus pass; all of it suddenly gone in the blink of an eye.

Roommate selfie in the police station.

Going to the police station to file a report was one of the most frustrating things I have experienced here. After blowing me off, my roommates and I were told to just go home because the investigator was busy talking to people who were arrested for “real, serious crimes”.

I left the police station feeling betrayed and hopeless. I felt like this country I loved and trusted so much had just betrayed me in more ways than one. Not only did my most important belongings just get taken from me, but I felt like nobody cared to help. The frustration brought me to tears as I arrived empty-handed to my apartment. 

But then, the universe smiled at me when an angel of a woman (Miriam) messaged my sister on Instagram saying that she found my purse on the beach. Apparently, the thieves were only after my phone and cash, so the rest of the contents of my purse were discarded in the sand. I couldn’t believe it; I was going to get everything but my phone back just because this woman took the time out of her day to help a complete stranger. 

Miriam explaining the story of how she found my purse via Instagram.

Miriam’s outlook on the whole situation was contagious. She wrote to me in what I assume was translated English, “The world is round. He who does good, the good returns to him! You’re probably good people.” I couldn’t help but feel like this was a gift from God, or the universe, or whatever you want to call it. I started to forget how terrible it was that my phone was still gone because I kept focusing on how incredible it was that she had found the rest of my stuff.

You know that saying, “When you focus on the good, the good gets better”? Well, once I opened my heart to the good that still existed in this world, it kept flooding in.

The following day, my roommate, Izzy, and I met up with Miriam and she immediately pulled me in for a hug. She apologized for all that had happened to me and told me how happy she was to help. Although I barely understood Hebrew and Miriam’s English was out of practice, with the help of Google translate and Izzy’s basic Hebrew language skills, Miriam invited us into her home, gave us water, and we got to know each other a bit. 

When she learned that my phone was long-gone, she immediately started calling her friends to see if someone had a used iPhone I could buy to save me from having to pay full price for one at the store. Turns out, I was in luck! A friend of her friend had one, and he (Eli) was willing to sell it to me for almost $300 cheaper than the store would. (He even threw in a screen protector and an old phone case too). The only problem was that we had to find a way to get from Petah Tikva to Ramat Gan. 

Miriam, Izzy, and me.

Miriam continued to be the kind soul that she is and offered to drive us there. We drove 30 minutes to pick up Eli from the street in Ramat Gan, and headed to the nearest ATM to pay for the phone. We said our goodbyes to Miriam, thanking her endlessly for the generosity and Israeli hospitality she extended towards us in those last 24 hours. 

Still on a high from the past events that seemed to just unfold perfectly in my favor (or at least as perfectly as they can after getting my stuff stolen), we headed to our next and final stop: Hot Mobile to get a new SIM card. To my surprise, I was in and out of the store within 15 minutes–sent on my way with the same phone number (yay!) and no fee to pay. It was so simple, because the kindness didn’t end with Miriam and Eli. 

A customer waiting in the store helped us translate at the check-in kiosk when she noticed us struggling, and the Hot Mobile worker spoke perfect English–making the explanation of my situation so much easier. Just like Miriam, they were both extremely sympathetic and apologetic of what had happened. 

I left Hot Mobile feeling the exact opposite of how I felt leaving the police station less than 24 hours prior. I felt supported and hopeful about the community I was now a part of. 

Someone who has never been to Israel probably thinks it was crazy, naive, reckless, and even dangerous to put such faith in these strangers I just met–and maybe it was, but every single person I tell this story to who has been here, who has experienced the beauty of Israeli community, knows that this is just what they do. Israel is like a giant family, and the average person doesn’t hesitate to help you out in times of trouble. 

It would be so easy to focus on the few people that caused this terrible situation, but instead I choose to see how many more people were there for me when I needed them the most. 

I have to say, I never thought that getting my purse stolen would make me so grateful to be living here in Israel. 

New place, same old me.

September 10, 2021.

Something I’ve come to learn and accept about myself during the last few years is that I am, in fact, an introvert. As much as I wished it weren’t true at times, there will always be that part of me that needs to take a step back to breathe and be alone. When I ignore this, I often struggle to be clear-headed and present. So, I have been making a more active effort to nurture this side of me.

Being left alone with my thoughts, emotions, goals, etc. has been intimidating and really hard sometimes, but it has given me the chance to truly get to know myself. I finally began to answer the questions I’ve asked for quite some time now: Who am I? What do I want out of life? Who am I when I do the things that make me feel alive and happy and strong and loved and inspired

My happiest self is found on the beach. This beach happens to be a 15 minute walk from my apartment.

I naively thought I had it all figured out before I came here. With so much time alone during the COVID lockdown, I thought I had finally become My True Self. And maybe I finally was My True Self in a safe, loving, home environment where I was comfortable, but was this way of being strong enough to hold up when all of those external variables changed? 

Well, these last two weeks have definitely put that to the test. Not because they were extremely difficult per say (although shopping for basic necessities with every label in a language I don’t understand was at times so frustrating I wanted to cry)…but because my excitement and desire to do and see everything immediately meant that I was constantly on the go. I didn’t really leave any time to just be alone, or to process all the ways that my life was changing. Being here has challenged me because I tried to neglect one of My True Self’s most essential core needs: alone time. 

I found myself trying to be a social butterfly who goes out any time her friends say they want to. I found myself constantly around people because how does one get alone time when she lives with 5 roommates in a town she has yet to know well enough to feel comfortable walking alone in? I became exhausted because I tried to push myself to be someone I wasn’t.

Like clockwork though, my body started to remind me of who I am all at once. It begged me to do something alone. It whispered, listen to me and slow down and it’s okay. I took my first solo walk to the beach. I floated in the sea. I took deep breaths. I journalled. I called home. I felt better. I felt better because I listened and found my way back to myself.

Taking a stroll through my neighborhood in Bat Yam.
Is she a looker? Maybe not. Does she have character? Without a doubt.

I see now that as hard as it had been to find and trust myself at home, my next challenge will be learning to trust and listen to myself in a foreign place, with new people surrounding me. I want to continue showing up in this world as my most authentic self, and that means recognizing that the foundation of who I am doesn’t change just because I live somewhere new. 

I look forward to continuing to learn about who I am from my new home, new friends, and new experiences.

The Beginning.

August 23, 2021.

I kept waiting for the nerves to hit. For it to finally set in that I am truly about to live in a foreign country with five strangers for ten months…but it never did. Not when I was on the plane, not when I arrived at the airport, not even when I finally saw the apartment that I would be calling home. 

I thought I must not feel nervous because I just hadn’t come to terms with the fact that it was real. I thought when reality finally set in, I would be hit with the waves of anxiety I was used to feeling anytime I experienced something new. Although I know I will feel nervous at various points throughout these next 10 months (as any human being does anywhere in the world), I don’t think I feel nervous now because I know this is the path I am meant to be on.

People told me I was so “brave” for doing this, and, at first, I kept shutting them down because I assumed the only reason I could be this “brave” was because I didn’t think about the decision much. I just followed my gut that told me I was meant to come back to Israel and didn’t give it much further thought. How is it brave to be thoughtless in decision making–especially in making a decision that would dramatically change my life? 

But the more I think about it, the more I believe it actually is brave. It’s brave to take on a huge life change that not many people would choose for themselves. It’s brave to say, “I have no idea what these next ten months will look like, but I am so eager and excited to see what awaits me.” It is extremely brave to have faith in myself to know what is best for me–to trust my gut (or my heart, or my soul, etc) so fully that I don’t feel the need to consider other people’s ideas or opinions about what my next step after college should be, or what I should be afraid of.

So, here’s to taking that leap of faith.

Here’s to listening to my heart and soul.

Here’s to the start of my next journey here in Israel.