My mother, of blessed memory, was taken from me in one terrible moment and left me, in her death, two unwritten wills, which penetrated me deeply, from the observation of a child:
The First Commandment - Honoring Parents:
One year there was heavy snow in Jerusalem. The roads were blocked. It was only possible to move on foot, and even then with great difficulty. My mother wrapped herself in several layers, used two umbrellas, and walked to the neighborhood where her elderly father lived, to feed him.
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Even when her brothers begged her not to go and that they would replace her on her mission that day, she firmly refused because she saw the utmost importance in fulfilling the commandment to honor one's father, despite the difficulty.
The Second Testament - Prayer:
My mother prayed a lot. Always. At home, in the synagogue, at the Western Wall and at the graves of the righteous. She used to visit the Western Wall to pray every single day. On that terrible day, the 22nd of the month of Av, 5763, August 19, 2003, my mother visited the Western Wall twice.
The second time she went to pray at the Western Wall in honor of my beginning my studies at a large yeshiva in Jerusalem, an event that, in her opinion, required a special trip to the Western Wall to recite verses of Psalms for my success.
On her way home from the Western Wall, she boarded a bus on line 2. When the bus reached Zwa'hil Square in the heart of the Haredi neighborhood, a suicide bomber exploded on the bus, killing 23 people and injuring 123 others.
I was on a nearby street and heard a terrible explosion. I thought there had been a big accident.
The news reported a bus explosion on another route. I calmed down. I called my mother several times, but she didn't answer. I went to several hospitals and everywhere they said she wasn't there.
When I contacted the municipality hotline, they told me that if she wasn't in any of the hospitals, we should prepare for something bad, but they didn't give details. Later, the family members traveled to Abu Kabir, where they identified her by the color of the clothes she was wearing and a small earring left in her ear.
I lost my mother when she was 53 years old. She left behind a husband, five children, and eleven grandchildren.
My mother never got to see me study in yeshiva. But her warm prayers did their job. I believe that thanks to them, I studied and started a home and a family.
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Joel is currently studying in the academic conversion program and is the father of five children. Being the son of a family affected by hostilities does not leave him alone, and he is an active member of the bereaved families forum "Choose Life." Joel chooses every day to focus on the joy of life and is studying a profession that is all about giving, compassion, and loving people.
The will that my mother left me I watched
