Forgotten Time

Today, a new day.

I have to continuously remind myself to breathe. 

To take in my experiences, and accept them.

     My last blog was about Poland, but was written at Noa's home in Jerusalem, during Pesach. Leaving her house, my sister and I were going to Yam L'Yam, a five day journey from the Kineret to Mediterranean Sea. I was excited, but also at the same time, I was truly emotionally drained and the physical drain was not all that welcomed.

     I could comment on each of the five days individually, and what we hiked. But I'll make that short as possible, because even pulling those memories to the front bore me, because it is what I saw and not did, that made it a great hike. Day one was a 500 meter hike through a river/stream that led to the Kineret. It was fun, and the water came up to our waists at some point... but knowing me and my group, it's no surprise every single las tone of us (including the Madrechiem) were soaked head to toe by the end of this small endeavor. Day two was a short circle-hike because of Shabbat, so instead of starting our journey we just visited a nice area with pools of water. Day three started the impossible day of hiking up Mount Hermon, which is the second tallest mountain in Israel, to my knowledge. It wasn't easy, but the view across the north of Israel into Lebanon was definitely rewarding. From here we could also see our starting point in the distant mountains which we were woken up at 5:30 that very same morning. It was incredible to see what we accomplished in one day's time. We slept in a camp site on the mountain and headed down the mountain the next day. It was a easy 'stroll' down the mountain, but the view was fantastic all the same. On the way down, I can't tell you how many dead animals we saw! It was a truly odd thing to state, but by the end of that fourth day, I could pick out the smell of dead boar/pig/cow/jackal/& unidentifiable from a good 500 meters away! Those encounters aren't what I'd call fun, but boy oh boy was it an interesting day...

     Day four. Day five. I wish this transaction between the days was as easy as the first four nights. I went to sleep, it was gorgeous outside, sleeping in a sleeping bag under the innumerable stars squished between two friends, and a few others crowding around. It was supposed to be the best night of Yam L'Yam. An hour or so after drifting off... Rachel woke me up crying. I don't remember what she said, I only remember bits and pieces of it. The only words I herd before I broke out in hysterics was John Klingert is dead. I broke down in hysterics, I wasn't sure if I was crying or screaming at any given point. I nearly threw up after getting out of my sleeping bed with no shoes, no glasses, no inkling of sanity. I can only recall half mumbling to myself that it was impossible. He wasn't dead. My friend from school, who meant so much to me. He couldn't have died! In the middle of my mumbling I started to scream. I knew what had happened immediately: Suicide, Route 78, a fight?, crying, wandering along the highway alone, the bridge, his bike?, his sister, his mom, his father, Mike, Andrew, our lunch table. In 30 seconds it all made sense and yet still I couldn't believe it. John was dead. The only guy from Warren I have liked since elementary school. On top of that, he was one of my only close friends. From the day I met him at the Expo last year, to the day I said goodbye to embark on a four month journey... never. Never would I have thought that the guy I thought so much about wouldn't be there to hug when I came back to school. Or talk about life when the rest of our lunch table had gone to lab. Or scare me out of my mind when he nearly rode me over with his bike. He wouldn't be there to tell his funny stories anymore. He also wouldn't be there to listen. He also wouldn't be there to make me smile everyday, when school couldn't get any harder. He wouldn't be there anymore. He just wouldn't.

     I don't remember going to sleep that night, but I do remember waking up. Maybe I whimpered? I don't know. I checked my Ipod in the hopes it wasn't the day I thought, it wasn't the time I thought, what happened last night was a dream. A horrible nightmare... after all, I have had realistic dreams where I thought people I cared about died. I got up. I looked around. And I remember crying with my sister, hugging her tight. I remember being comforted by Martine, and later by a few other friends. I remember the counselors.. and I remember Josh's face. Rachel, Josh, and I had lost a great friend... it was no dream. It was a nightmare.

     I don't want to talk much more about it, because I'm not even sure screaming and crying was the last of my reaction. Martine thinks I haven't even began to react. I'm not sure myself, but I definitely say the last day of Yam L'Yam, biking to the Mediterranean Sea made me feel... so alive, and yet at the same time, emotionally drained from Poland, physically drained from the week of hiking, and kind of broken on the inside knowing I'd have one less person to see when I get back.

     I have talked to my close friends from home, and I guess I do feel.. better? If I can use that word. I have been having a tough week... not much more can describe it. But, for my essay to UMC, which my Mom had excitedly told me I could apply for!, I wrote this essay in maybe 15 minutes... I think writing has always been my out.. it was always made me feel better;

Pretend that you could go back in time and change one big decision you made. Why would you change your mind, and how would it impact the rest of your life? 

     Time is a tricky thing, filled with unusual quirks like skipping and falling behind hours, as well as the notorious minutes that feel like they stretch beyond days. Time can be frozen in a photo, or captured in a memory, and can even in modern times, be replayed on tape. One thing I could never understand though, is how someone can relive the past. Relive the experiences they once had and then alter them, that is. It’s a contortion of the truth; in all seriousness, a question I often thought about was not if I could relive the past, but what if I could simply erase a bad memory or change the outcome of a faulty or hastily made decision.

     It’s quite clear the question was asked in hypothetical terms, but I could never think of a major decision I have made and not seen the ways it impacted my life. I wouldn’t mind changing my hair colour, or maybe deciding to study for a test I had failed, or even if I should have done this vs. that, BUT any major decision I had made was made for a reason and had an outcome I either liked or learned from.
     For the purposes of this essay, if I were forced to choose a decision or statement to recant, it would be to have been saying yes to EIE. This was one of the biggest decisions of my life. EIE is everything I could have hoped for and far more. There are no words to describe the journey I have come on here. But, as of three days ago I have been having second thoughts. Bluntly, my friend from home, one out of my VERY few close friends, committed suicide. The question echoes through my ears; if I was at home, could I have stopped it? Would have one face happy to see him before he went home, stop that long and painful night? Could of I just hugged him that day and told him everything would be fine, have avoided this disaster? Is it even possible, while I was walking on my normal ‘get some fresh air around the block’ walk, could of I seen him crying before he entered Route 78? Or by now, I could have possibly had my permit, and been driving home before curfew when I saw him, and stop the car, like his first attempt had ended? The question that has been keeping me up for three nights: if I had not been a world away, could I have saved my friend?
      If I didn’t come on EIE, I would truly miss out on a lot, no exceptions. I’m not even saying if I stayed home, I could have saved my friend! What I mean to say is, if I had to change any major decision it would be going on EIE. Even giving me the hopes of saving my friend (which is one in a trillion), I would give up this opportunity to just give him a hug on April 10th, even if I couldn’t save him.
      Would it impact the rest of my life? Of course! I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this essay in Jerusalem, between classes, or even at all. In fact, I might have been making totally different plans that involve nothing of the sort. All, I know is, I’m on EIE and my final goodbye is whispered during the Mourners Kaddish, and my last hug was going to another mourning friend and not the deceased. Time is a tricky thing, filled with unusual quirks like skipping and falling behind hours, as well as the notorious minutes that feel like they stretch beyond days. Time can be frozen in a photo, or captured in a memory, and can even in modern times, be replayed on tape. But, as I learned on EIE, even in the longest minute there only sixty seconds. Now, while thinking about life and this essay, no second will be recounted, so like I always say, make every second count, and make no regrets… just a learned lesson.