לק"ו
A month has passed since Gavriel’s murder.
How many times did I see him each month, after I became his sister-in-law? Generally, I saw him only once every few months. This month it became clear to me what I missed during all those months I didn’t see him. And during all those years before, when I didn’t know him at all.
I want to talk about Gavriel from my own point of view, when I had just become acquainted with him; and afterwards, about Gavriel as I know him now.
One of my first memories of Gavriel is one evening when we had been married for a very short time, and had come home for a visit to Kfar Adumim. The house was quiet; in the dining room, a meal (fish) for two by candlelight (in the shape of a flower, if I may mention it) awaited us, and the waiter in faithful attendance was – Gavriel. He was then, in my eyes, a pleasant child. Later I learned that he was a pleasant and wise child.
He was the third member of the Hoter Sons Trio. Ben-Yeshai, Sephy and Gavriel would perform together regularly at family occasions, and in spite of the many repetitions of the same well-known bits, no one got tired of them because there was always some new development. There were ad-libs and innovations with every performance. New songs were added to the repertoire. It was the same at the Shabbat table. As the number of discs of sacred songs in the house increased, so did the songs of the trio. Gavriel was always careful to sing the songs according to what his mother specified. Gavriel would act as the clumsy, off-key singer in the group, but actually he had an excellent ear for music and a voice that was a pleasure to hear.
Over the last three years, I saw him mature, delving more and more deeply into the Torah. At the same time, he became an interesting person to talk to.
He was also our family definer of Jewish law. And when he didn’t know the answer, he was not ashamed to say so, and to guide us to a more authoritative source on the matter.
Whenever I saw him, he was busy – reading, or learning, whether it was a sacred or an academic book. Many times I saw him help his parents, his brothers, and myself – he would watch my son Shlomo, and helped my husband to move our belongings out of our caravan last summer. During the past year, I actually expected that he would become more distant from me because he was becoming more involved in the world of Torah, but the opposite occurred. I started to feel closer to him, because we had more things in common to discuss -- from “Harry Potter” to the reasons for a particular decision on one point of Jewish law or another. Last Sukkot we held an unofficial competition in reading Tolkien’s trilogy, “Lord of the Rings.” I must confess that I, the English teacher, lost decisively. To this day I have not yet finished the first book; and Gavriel, we were told during the seven days of mourning, had gotten a third of the way into the third book…
One of the things that I loved the most about Gavriel was his creativity with clay. He sculpted entertaining figures, and a concrete background to depict their environment. The exodus from Egypt, the Temple, and others. And if we’re talking about creativity – Gavriel asked me to make a paper cutting for a couple to whose wedding he had been invited. We agreed that instead of paying me, he would prepare a Scroll of Esther for us in the Yemenite style since he was, at that time, learning to be a Torah scribe.
I finished the paper cutting two weeks after Gavriel ordered it; but Gavriel, through no fault of his own, did not manage to finish the scroll.
Now the scroll of his life is unrolled before us. A chapter of sanctity, of overcoming the temptations of this world, of self-improvement. We made copies of the schedule he set for himself, besides his regular yeshiva classes. One can see in it an indescribable utilization of time. Up to the last minute. This is the Gavriel that I suddenly became acquainted with this month.
Gavriel the angel, who ate only one meal a day – how was it that I never noticed it when he visited us? He would always say that he had eaten already, or that he would eat later…Gavriel who got up to pray before dawn and stayed awake learning until 2 in the morning – I wasn’t at the yeshiva to see it…Gavriel who people hesitated to disturb while praying because of the holiness that radiated from him. Gavriel who helped new immigrants and friends and was a student from whom teachers enjoyed learning. Gavriel who influenced so many people in this world.
This month I discovered how much I could miss Gavriel simply because I knew that I would not be privileged to see him again until the resurrection of the dead.
His smile, the entertaining sounds he would make, the joking wrestling matches with his two giant brothers, until they turned into an indistinct pile of arms, legs and flying tzitiziot.
The regular, enriching Torah talk at the third Shabbat meal, the third voice that would vary each song so much at the Shabbat table, and his place in the trio performing on happy occasions.
At the funeral and during the seven days of mourning, I learned that it is permissible and necessary to be sorry, to experience this feeling of the loss of such an inspiring person, one who influenced the lives of dozens of people of all ages – parents, siblings, teachers and friends. But more than this, I learned that one must learn to draw spiritual strength from this astonishing soul, of whose presence we were privileged to taste only the smallest measure.
He was so modest that I never felt his strength. But the memory of his warm smile will always caress, always warm the heart.
And the name of our new daughter, born a week and a half after Gavriel left us – Noga, whose letters are the initials of “Ner Gavriel Hashem” (Gavriel’s Light is G-d) -- will always remind me of the path of light and faith that Gavriel set out. A path aspiring to true prophecy, to sanctity, and the nearness of G-d.