On the night of September 9th, 2003, a 20-year old bride anxiously awaited the coming morning. It was the night before her wedding and she counted down the minutes until she would stand under her chupah and become the wife of a man she loved with all her neshama. Her father had just returned from New York on a medical conference and the two of them decided to go out for a heart-to-heart talk on this incredible night. They made their way to Cafe Hillel on Emek Refaim. As she entered the restaurant, her father sensed that something wasn't right. He noticed a man entering the Cafe right after his daughter did, and then the panic set in. He ran in to get his daughter out, but it was too late. The blast went off and Dr. Applebaum was killed instantly. The bride remained in critical condition. I remember when the call came in from my best friend. "Naavah is in a coma. Her father is dead. Tomorrow is her wedding and she doesn't even know her father is dead."Wherever I am, my blog turns towards Eretz Yisrael and tries to make a Kiddush Hashem.
Naavah Applebaum died that same night. Her wedding day became her funeral.
This experience left me in a state of shock. I remember a few nights after Naavah's funeral I called my Abba in a fit of hysterics. I cried, "Abba, I know what my tafkid is in Olam HaZeh." My father calmly answered, "Yes shefile'? What is that?" "I want to die Al Kidush HaShem" I sobbed. My father is a man of never ending patience, wisdom, and compassion. He took a deep breath and said, "Gila, I think I have something even harder for you." "What do you mean?" I asked. "What could possibly be harder then that?" "Try living Al Kidush HaShem", my father replied.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
I think the readership here at the Muqata would greatly appreciate this passionate, brilliant piece by a young woman that was received recently. Excerpt: