Just Woke Up

it is almost 7:00 p.m. in the holy city of safed.  i ate a humongous amount of pasta, bread and salad for lunch.  i then had a fake banana based ice cream and fell asleep. i think i literally, passed out.  i had a hard time sleeping last night.  i spent hours on facebook; looking at the seemingly, countless posts of civilians and soldiers who have been killed.  they are all stunningly, beautiful people.  the finest and best of our youth have been taken from us.  we read of such bravery and dedication to the survival of our people.  so many of our young women have been slain in battle.  and the world continues to call for more of our bloodshed.  it is exhausting to try and make any sense of any of this.  i found myself answering so many of the posts.  so many people are trying to get the world to see that israel is not on par with hamas.  we are trying to prove that we are not the agressors, here.  we are trying to end the false narrative that israel is an aparthied atate.  we are trying desparately, to show the world that we do not target civilans and wantingly, kill children and women.  i post all day long that the world is not listening and that they are all calling for our destruction as a state and as a people. it is exhausting and it is useless to try to defend our right to exist.

i sit in my large house and look around all day.  i see the pictures that my grandkids made, hanging on my wall.   i see the toy kitchen set up near the door. i  see the many sets of assorted legos on the shelves. i see the little tent in my living room that my grandson loves to play in. i  sigh.  right now i know that they are safe, thank G-d.  i know that they are not running in and out of bomb shelters.  i miss them terribly but i know that they are safe and unmolested.  i saw a couple of little kids in the playground with their grandpa this morning and i started to cry.  i would smile, mormally, but i am traumatized.  i look at the pictures of the hostages in gaza too many times a day.  one cannot avoid it. 

 i was born in 1951, a few years after the holocaust.  i have vivid memories of my mom, watching documentatries of the holocaust in her bedroom and crying.  i was too young to understand the trauma.  adults did not speak of the autrocities to their kids.  there was an underlying sadness in our homes. it was only a short time ago that i realized that i was second generation holocaust.  my grandparents came to america at the turn of the century and my parents were born in new york so i never thought we were effected by the holocaust.  it was only later on that i saw pictures of my mother's cousins who perished and other members of our famly.  i didn't understand why my mother watched the documentaries and why she couldn't get over it.  and now i spend my nights and days going over all the pictures of the fallen soldiers and of the innocent women and children slain and of the many hostages being held in gaza.  and i watch the many demonstrations on the news calling for the destruction of the jews and it exhausts me.  our soldiers are fighting for our existence as a people.  they are fatigued and hungry and on the move.  and i am in my beautiful house looking around at all lthe photos of my grandkids.  and i am old and vulnerable and understand the holocaust better now.