Posted on 08/06/2002 4:30:04 AM PDT by SJackson
Just this past Shabbat, Avital Wolanski, 27, was talking with her mother and her husband Avi, 29, about how terrible it was that so many children have been orphaned in the intifada. The discussion had particular meaning to them Avital had two small children and was six months pregnant.
In a letter her mother wrote to be read at the couple's double funeral yesterday in Jerusalem, she recalled the conversation. "I said Shema Israel, how do they [the orphans] have the strength to go on. Avi replied, 'They find the strength because they have to. This is our country and we don't have any other.'
"We didn't know that soon we would be one of those families," Avital's mother wrote.
The couple was killed when a terrorist ambushed them after midnight on August 5 on Route 60 near the Shilo Junction as they drove with their children from Avital's parents home in Moshav Tekuma in southern Israel to their own home in Eli in Samaria. The terrorist fired at least ten bullets into the couple's van.
Fifteen minutes later, soldiers found the windows shattered and the couple's two sons, Yigal, 3, and Nadav, 8 months, crying next to the bodies of their dead parents. Yigal, who was wounded in the attack and Nadav who was uninjured, were taken to Hadassah-University Hospital in Ein Kerem.
Yigal was originally reported to be in moderate condition, but his condition improved and by late yesterday was reported to be making satisfactory progress.
In her eulogy, Avital's mother recalled how happy she had been that her daughter's family had stayed a whole extra day after Shabbat.
Avi, who was born in Jerusalem and served in the IDF, was studying in a Jerusalem yeshiva and planned to become a teacher like Avital.
They had moved to a caravan in an new neighborhood of Eli right after their marriage. Avital taught at a school in Shilo, and afterwards in Eli.
One of the first things Avi did after moving to Shilo was to plant a small vineyard outside his home, a neighbor said.
"We were scared when you said you were moving to Eli," Avital's mother wrote. But she said she had gotten used to it, and had visited them despite her misgivings.
"Avital, I never told you, but my plan was to come to Eli once a week for the next year, to help you," her mother wrote. She promised that the family would raise Yigal and Nadav, and she spoke of her sorrow at losing Avital's unborn child, recalling on how her last birthday Avital promised that by her next birthday she would have a third grandchild as a present.
When the Avital and Avi left Tekuma late Sunday night, they promised to call when they arrived. But the phone never rang. Instead, Avital's mother said she was awoken in the middle of the night by her neighbors, who told her about the attack. Yesterday, more than a thousand mourners gathered in the courtyard of the Har Hamor Yeshiva in Jerusalem where Avi, who was an lieutenant in the IDF, had been studying to be a teacher.
Upon walking into the crowded courtyard and seeing the two bodies, one relative stopped midway. "I can't stand there," she said, looking at the bodies. "I can't bear to see them, I don't believe it," she said, putting her hands on her face and turning away. Avi's brothers walked up to his body and stood there crying for most of the ceremony. Avi's father also stood next to his body. He spoke for over half an hour of his love for his son and the deep love between Avital and Avi.
"I saw how much she was with you, and how much you were her beloved husband," he said. He also spoke of his son's skill as a student of Jewish texts. "I think you read more than one line at a time, otherwise how could you do it?" he said. He had believed his son would make a great contribution to Jewish learning, the father said. Now, he said, that will never happen. "A great sorrow has befallen Israel," he said.
He stopped his speech several times to look at the bodies, rocking back and forth, crying, and calling their names, "Avi, Avi and Avital, Avi." When the eulogies were finished, a rabbi made a small tear in the families' shirts, as is the custom. Then the two fathers hugged each other, held hands, and recited the Kaddish, the prayer for the dead.
When the blue funeral van left the yeshiva for the Har Hamenuhot cemetery, the mourners silently walked behind it for several blocks. Police blocked off the streets.
At the funeral, Chief Rabbi Eliahu Bakshi-Doron asked, "How is it possible not to fall apart. How many God? How many?"
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| Mon Aug 5, 6:42 AM ET |
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The bodies of a Jewish settler couple lay covered in front of their car after they were killed in a shooting attack as they were driving along a West Bank road near Ramallah, early August 5, 2002. A Palestinian militant shot dead the couple bringing to 13 the number of people killed in a fresh wave of attacks within 24 hours. (Reuters) |
It's not how many. It's how differently and miraculously.
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