The Club

by Tziri Frank

I have arrived.

And I have every right to be here.

Yes, it seems that without any solicitation, I have now been accepted into a club that I never even knew existed.   I have now been admitted to a society that not everyone is allowed to join, only those chosen individuals that meet the strict entrance criteria. And the only criterion for membership to this guild is the shattering, life changing experience of the loss of a child.

Consider me shattered.

Consider me changed.

Consider me a new member.

Because four and a half weeks ago, three days before Pesach, my son, Yossi Frank returned his pure sweet neshoma to the Kisei Hakovod where it belongs. After twenty years in a severely mentally and physically handicapped body, Yossi, passed away peacefully in his sleep, and I know that now he is dancing with the Malachim and lighting up the very heavens with his beautiful smile and joyous personality.

And, in the last few weeks, as I have been introduced to a whole new reality, I have slowly come to the realization that the individuals who have experienced this tragic event do indeed belong in a segregated organization. Because I have discovered that spending time with the regular people makes me feel as if I am a very big fish in a very small fishbowl, or a deer caught in the high beam headlights of a very large SUV. These days I definitely feel as if all eyes are focused upon me as ordinary people gaze in wonder as I go about my business doing the ordinary things in life.

“Wow! Look at that! She lost her son, and she is still buying frozen pizza!” is the unspoken sentiment as people gaze in morbid fascination at me and my shopping cart in the supermarket.

“Hey, she can still walk!” is the wondering gaze that follows me as I get some fresh air on Shabbos afternoon.

But, this is not a diatribe about the odd things people say and do simply because they don’t know how to respond to their own fears that seeing someone experiencing such loss has to bring out. Instead, I would like to officially record what appears to be the unofficial Club Rules for an active membership to this unique club. And all the rules seem to center around understanding and interpreting the unusual body language of people I have come in contact with.

Rule Number One – Understanding The Dance of the Eyes

One cannot be a member of this club without understanding the Dance of the Eyes that people make whenever you come into possible visual contact. What I have begun to understand is the hidden meanings behind these intricate eye movements.

˜  The Nod – this is the tilting of the head (always to the right) accompanied with the large round pitying eyes. Sometimes there are words to go along this obvious expression of compassionate concern, and the individuals always manage to express their honest sympathy for this difficult life experience. These people are a large part of the population, and for some reason I always find myself offering words of comfort and kindness to them to ease their obvious pain.

“How are you?” they ask sincerely even if they have just seen and spoken to me half an hour before.

“I’m good,” I reply (because really, who has enough time of energy to really hear my response?), “Yossi is in a better place, you know.”

At this they tear up, and I pull out one of my ever present tissues to offer them comfort.

˜  Selective Blindness – this is the sudden inability of those persons whom you have known and spoken to for years to actually look you in the eye. It goes without saying that they also have recently forgotten your name or that you ever actually spoke to each other. To be fair, these are generally people who truly do not know how to deal with their own feelings of fear and discomfort that being around A Person Who Lost A Child arouses. This is a smaller percentage of the population, and I find myself suddenly calling out to them across the local supermarket.

“Yoohoo!’ I might call out across crowded auditoriums or parking lot, “I missed you by the Shiva!”

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen those people since that last comment either.

˜  X-Ray Vision – this is the unusual phenomena that occurs wherein the person who has experienced the loss suddenly becomes invisible. It’s hard to explain where in the process of Levaya, Shiva, and Shloshim this occurs, but I would hazard a guess that it is a result of the traumatic initiation process into this club. This phenomenon expresses itself in the bewildering experience of knowing you are in a room but feeling as if you are not actually there, because those around you are carefully talking about everything and anything other than what everyone is thinking which of course is “OH MY Goodness! She just lost a child!” These people are, thankfully, a small percentage of the population, and for some inexplicable reason I find myself unable to resist mentioning Yossi in the course of the conversation.

“I can’t find ripe tomatoes,” they may say when they literally bump into me in the supermarket.

“It is very difficult,” I would agree. And then add, “Yossi never liked tomatoes.”

“Maybe I’ll try peppers instead,” is the normal response.

“Yossi didn’t like peppers either,” I say.

And then both of us head off in opposite directions.

Rule Number Two – Understanding Language

One of the most important rules for being in the club is clearly to put up with and interpret the well meaning yet odd choice of words people suddenly deem necessary to throw your way. Though it is clear that no one means any harm, and everyone wants to help in their own way, sometimes it is necessary to translate these words into sentiments that can actually be taken as comfort.

Wise Words of Wisdom – is what many people try to offer. To be fair, they do mean well. I just don’t get how they have such a clear understanding of the intricate ways and reasons for the actions of Hashem.

“You must be so special, or you would not have been chosen for this Nisayon!” is one of the more frequent clichés that I have been hearing. This, I have come to understand, is loosely translated as, “thank goodness I am not that good and I will not have to be tested!” In all honesty, I must confess that I may have an edge with this quotable quote, because I have been hearing these words of wisdom for the last twenty years as the parent of a special needs child.

Wise Words of Advice – are the expressions that I have come to dread. This usually comes from people who have decided what I am supposed to be thinking and feeling. And heaven help me if I am not experiencing the predetermined emotions! But, I do marvel at the amazing coincidence in finding that these are the same individuals that have been dictating to me how to feel and what to think ever since I can remember. The only difference is that now I am being informed about how I will experience the future.

“You are not going to sleep for six months!”

“You will never enjoy a Pesach again!”

And that may or many not be true.

But, there probably are a whole lot of rules that I haven’t even begun to realize are now a part of my daily routine, but I have full confidence in my ability to recognize and decipher them. You see the reason I was so quickly able to pick up on the Club Rules to this exclusive clique I now belong to is that I used to be an honorary member of a previous club called, Parents With Special Needs Children, otherwise known by its more familiar name, “You Are So Special”. Which brings me to the only question I have not been able to answer, and that is;

Can one be a member of more than one club? Or does acceptance in one club automatically disqualify from privileges in another?

Because I finally got all the other Club Rules straight!