Written To Tal
A week after Tal's death, her friends made a memory ceremony and sang for her this song: "You are not like the rest"
YOU ARE NOT LIKE THE REST
lyrics and poetry - Yuval Banay
You're not like the rest
Your eyes are on the verge of sadness
The sunlight has set
But you're still glowing, lighting my way
The heart that was broken
You're gonna mend it piece by piece
You're not like the rest
You're so very special
But i don't know, who you are
Reveal who you are
Please tell me who you are
You're not like the rest
Into the fog you're slowly slowly disappearing
There is a party, inside my head is slowly fading
The sunlight has set
But you're still glowing lighting my way
You're not like the rest
You're so very special
But i don't know, who you are
Reveal who you are
Please tell me who you are
But i don't know who you are
you are not like the rest
“I can still hear her laughing…”
Now it’s 7:30 on Saturday morning, and I’ve just come back from a sleepness night in a field that we hung out together with Tal so often. We just sat in the field in front of quiet candles and a little campfire. We were speechless. Sometimes we laughed, sometimes we cried, but we were mostly silent.
It’s is hard to explain how it feels to lose someone like Tal. When we gathered the opinions of 50 of her close friends, we found that she only cried twice in the last three years.
One that knew only how to laugh, is one that was hard to catch and surprise in taking her picture, because she is always running from place to place, or it is more correct to say that she skipped.
I just sit all day and remember her—what we did, what we talked about, and how we always laughed and sang. She knew all the words to the songs I know and even more songs that I don’t know.
She taught me a lot. From her, I learned how to really live life—jump when you want to jump, laugh when you want to laugh, to hitchhike to Tel Aviv on Friday in the middle of rain, when you really want to do it.
I still hear her laughing, I don’t know about what, simply laughing.
There is no one more alive in this world than Tal, and there is no person my age that did more than her. Even at age 70, I won’t do, laugh, and enjoy as much as she did in her 17 and half years.
And now, what’s left for me? The Wall! But the wall is silent. It doesn’t laugh and doesn’t cry. I speak to it and her, but the wall doesn’t answer and doesn’t go with me together hand in hand every Friday from school to the Horev Center. The only thing the wall does is cause me to think and cry for her.
“I am still waiting for you to come sit next to me…”
“A week ago there was a bomb explosion up in the Carmel Center, next to The Borekas Shop. In the beginning we thought that nothing happened, just another bomb explosion.
In the end we understood that we were all killed, except you. It’s strange we couldn’t feel anything.
One boy that never knew you said that because you’re the only one missing, you must be the one that died.
We laughed at him, because he was silly. He doesn’t know that you can’t die.
Tal, everyone is talking about you, everyone is writing about you, singing about you, and I sit, staring from the side, with my hands in my pocket. Its ironic, because I was very close to you, and I’m not doing anything for you. Even crying for you, I can’t do. I feel that I should do something amazing and exceptional, something that no one has ever seen, something special, something that expresses your uniqueness. Something that is beyond my capability.
Everything that I could do won’t be good enough for you. And nothing, will honor you the way that you deserve to be honored. Even my sadness won’t be sad enough. Therefore, I’m not doing anything and I’m not crying.
I’m only sitting with my hands in my pockets and I am thinking about you. I am trying to remember the conversations between us, in our notes that we wrote to each other, things that we did together, and all the times that we made each other laugh, and even the times that we annoyed each other. I feel if I could only remember you strong enough, it will be as if you are still here. For a moment it works, and your smile flashes in front of my eyes and immediately vanishes. In the moment that your smile is present, it is so clear and real, that I can’t believe that you are not here.
I am still waiting for you to come sit next to me…”
“We yelled to the sky to bring you back…We need you, Tal…”
Tal with rosy cheeks, rolling laughter and a wide smile. You were the glue that held us together.
Joyful, happy, optimistic… You made sure to bring us closer to each other.
Now I know that you will continue to be the glue that held us together.
You must be!
Tal, I know that you needed our love and our need for you. I hope that you know how much we loved you, and how much we needed you.
If you can see us, you probably know it better.
We stood in the rain and cried about you, we yelled to the sky to bring you back, give us more time together, or at least time to part.
You left within our hearts a great hole when you went, when you were taken suddenly from us.
I’m not parting from you Tal! I’m taking you with me for better days than these.
Love us from above and take care of us like no one else can.
We need you, Tal--your love, your happiness.
“Why did you give Tal wings?”
Politics isn’t in the sky yet. It stays with me even though it doesn’t interest me. But it planted sorrow inside me. So why did you give Tal wings?
Politics, fly to the sky! Give me back what you stole!
Why are you so complicated?
Why do you use us as the weapon?
Who do you interest?
I will give you a pair of wings, second hand in excellent condition from someone who doesn’t need them.
Just turn the wheel back in time and sign unemployment.
Your forehead Adorned in Black Gold…” (Excerpt from a Poem in Hebrew) - Esti Adivi
Tal studied with us in an extended learning program in Literature.
Last Wednesday, the cursed day of the bus bomb explosion, Tal sat in class and was tested on a story, “Divorce,” By, Devorah Bar On. I checked the test in the afternoon, while sirens from ambulances in the nearby neighborhoods and shocking news from the television about another bombing in Haifa are intertwined with each other.
I was happy to read Tal’s test. Tal understood the story excellently. She got 100 percent. I wrote to her – while I am imagining her happy face – “Your comprehension and composition is wonderful”.
In Literature class, Tal sat in the first seat, hidden slightly behind a little closet in the corner – It was a personal statement that she wanted to be alone and yet present; to maintain a sense of privacy and to be with herself.
Tal, when I think about you, I think about how you look, about your long, beautiful, golden hair. About your vitality, energy, and originality that sprung from your eyes, About your smile and happiness that you had. And that you knew to spread out to everyone around you.
The last poem that we studied together in class, stated “Your forehead Adorned in Black Gold, eyes, light, life full of song…” In my thoughts these words connect and will always connect to you, In this painful understanding that this cruel reality forces us to change the time of the poem from future to past:
“Your forehead adorned in Black Gold, I don’t remember if it was written this way in the poem, Your forehead rhymes with eyes and light, I don’t remember if it was written this way…” Instead of, “Therefore, whoever you will be with, his life will be full with song...”
We will say: “Therefore, whoever you were there for, their lives were full of song…
“ Always kind hearted, and smiling…” Daniela Gelled - The class teacher
Dear Tal, This is my second year of being your homeroom teacher. I see you now before me with your bright eyes, and light, long, pretty hair. You are entirely filled with energy and happiness.
You succeeded in making warm connections with a lot of friends. There was a lot of human warmth in you, and you always knew how to say kind words to everyone.
I saw you grow into a glorious person. You always liked the personal touch; and therefore, on the wall in front of your desk in class you created your own personal corner—you wrote songs that you like and things about people who are dear to you.
This morning your classmates came to class and put a black ribbon on your chair, flowers and commemoration candles on your desk. Whenever we needed someone to volunteer with an activity, you were always there to help--always good-hearted and smiling.
You were so happy about preparing for the end of year events. The last lesson dealt with the end of the year parties. You conducted the lesson with a lot of love, care, and involvement.
I will especially remember you on trips with all the joy you carry. You stuck everyone with laughter, love of singing and joy. You were such an amazing person! I loved you very much! I will remember you forever.
30 Days After: In Your Memory
A long hour we stood over your grave, shocked. We refuse to believe, silent amongst the bouquets of flowers.
How did your life get cut off? A young girl, in the stillness of your days.
How is it possible to carry the pain? when we know that you aren’t here!
Father, mother, great grandmother, grandmother, grandfather and your young brother, Dror standing here in front of you, In their hearts a black hole.
Everyone that knew you was reminded of your wide smile.
Take care of this world, child, because we can’t anymore.
Take care of this world, child, נbcause now you are with angels.
And we, the friends: We will hug your family in love, we will be attentive, we will give a warm, loving hand
we believe that this is what you would want.
Take care of this world, child. Take care, amongst the angels and your soul will be together with life.
"looking for the right words to honor you, my child..." Dad, 11th anniversary.
For days I postponed my writing, it has not been easy and over the years, writing becomes even more difficult. Seems like events converges to this special day. Your brother returned from a long stay abroad the dates and hours of the other victims’ memorial services were published and announced. Time is progressing at its own pace. Tal, we have gathered today for the 11th time to commemorate your loss. I'm looking for the right words to honor you, my child; words to describe the terrible loss of a child, a girl born 28 years ago, but you my daughter will always be 17 years and 9 months old, forever!
Every year I hope that the plot will be filled with friends and acquaintances to join us at this hard time, as if to prove that you are important and not forgotten by others. That day and that last evening are engraved in my memory; that winter evening when I went behind your coffin. The day my life changed against my will on the day I became a bereaved father. I look back today and realize that on that date, without knowing or intending you sent me to a very long journey, the journey I walk every day the road of commemoration and remembrance.
Your body left us while you're still not 18 years old, all your future still ahead, you left us without saying goodbye. Often I asked myself what is the most important thing after one exhausted his life, my answer is - to be remembered!
During the 18 years you stayed with us you achieved a lot. You were very optimistic, outgoing, a happy girl, full of joy of life, special and unique which stuck to her ideas and ideology. You loved so many things during your 213 months you lived, you loved people and pets, you enjoyed songs and music, you loved to travel and to rebel, – you lived your short life at a unique rate a pace only you could keep. Your classmate well described that rhythm by saying that at the age of 70 he will not fulfill his life the way you did in your short life. Today 132 months after you've gone I declare you're still with us! The small little camel you jotted in your diary keeps your memory! Not a day goes by and more people are exposed to you, new people; people which regret that they did not meet you in person. Your memory is being carried all over the world. Just a few weeks ago in the Far East a young hiker saw your camel and said “Hey this is Tal’s Camel!"
My Parents brought me up and taught me to keep morality and justice and be a good person and contribute to society. You lived and implemented these values! This is not the case in politics. Recently I came to the conclusion that in politics the rules have changed. In politics there is neither morality nor justice!
I learned firsthand that the rules of the political game are completely different from the values ??on which I grew up and raised my children. The price I had to pay on March 5 2003 was only the first installment. The pain, sorrow, and frustration as a citizen of Israel are parts of my daily medicine. I scream and my voice is fading in space, no one listens to me - just the look of empathy and empty words, a daily reminder, "Hey Tal’s father - the rules have changed! .... We are sorry but we are pushing forwards," forward? Where are you running to? Continue your laboratory political tests? attempts to scarify others children’s life? Where are you running to you immoral politicians without sense of justice? My Tal, my daughter Tal is dead 11 years!
Years that I walk on the path you sent me on. That explosion which killed you, and parts within us, the shrapnel from the blast flew in all directions and continue to hurt again and again. 11 years ago when I became a bereaved father I was hoping that time will heal or at least will blur the pain and loss - unfortunately, I was wrong , even time does not heal .
Tal, you were taken from us 11 years ago without saying goodbye, I do not know where I got the power to continue my life without you. Following my surgery this year, I internalized that we live our lives day after day. As the world's largest river consists of droplets, so are our lives. The pain and sorrow trickling day in and day out and we receive our daily sorrow on a continuous daily dose. I am confident that, only with the support of relatives and friends we survive the period since you were taken from us. I will end with a big thank you to all members who have chosen to be with us today and all the friends who support us and remember you all year.
Ron Kehrmann Haifa Hadas grave plot, March 7th 2014
There is many more words written to Tal by her parents and friends but not translated yet....