Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Oz. Seven Years.
Nothing compares to realizing one day, with shock, that the best friend you've ever had, is the love of your life.
And once the two of you reveal that the feeling is mutual, and overcome the fear that it will ruin the friendship - it's practically an incredible miracle.
Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that were meant to be together and found each other.
But, here lies the catch:
Losing your best friend is devastating.
Losing the man of your life is excruciating.
Losing them both, at the same time, in the same person - well.... that opens a whole new array of words, none of which comes even close.
Seven years have passed.
Oz had ALS, more known as Lou Gehrig's Disease.
If you haven't heard of it, consider yourself lucky, and hope you never will.
He was very young for this disease to attack him.
Way too young.
And yet, it did.
Out of the blue, without warning, and with no mercy, as diseases tend to do.
In Hebrew, Oz means valor.
And, loyal to his name and personality, Oz fought heroically, all the way, for two and a half years.
A struggle that became harder from one day to the other, as once he got used to the advancing physical disability and managed to cope with it, another blow was brought about, a new cruel challenge to conquer, a higher level of difficulty.
And yet - he continued to fight, with admirable powers, never giving up.
He never surrendered.
Of all the things people said about Oz after he died, the most unforgettable one is Amir's observation:
"With all his physical disabilities, he never got into the mentality of a handicapped".
A major part of his victory was working full-time, despite the mountainous difficulties, until his last week.
An even bigger part was the fact that after he was gone, it took a long time and a lot of people to fill the hole that he has left, professionally. I am not sure it was ever filled. In fact, I am quite sure it wasn't.
But that hole was nothing, compared with the void that we were all left with.
Oz has touched so many people during his short life, especially during his last two years.
His cynicism, quick-wit and extreme arrogance (Oh yes...) were a cover-up for the most generous, empathic and soft-hearted person I have ever met.
And in addition to that, I was the one who also knew the man that he was.
Those who dared penetrating the thick walls he had built around himself (and he did not make life easy for those pioneers!), were awarded by discovering an incredible and rare human being, and the best friend that one could have.
Those lucky ones are also the ones for whom the world has changed forever the morning he died, on January 10th, 2000, just a couple of months before his 34th birthday.
As for me - my world was practically shattered.
Ever seen a crystal vase break?
Well, that's nothing.
How do you go on living, after watching the love of your life practically dying in slow motion for two and a half years, and then ceasing to exist?
You don't.
Not really. Not for a while..
The void that's left is just too extreme, and a major part of you dies.
You somehow function, you exist, but you don't really live.
It definitely changes you, completely and forever.
Pretty much like a tree that was cut down by lightening.
With time, gradually, and very, very slowly, new offshoots start to grow around the black stump, very pale and fragile, hesitantly making their way up, to the sun.Then, they become branches, and before you know it, a new stem is emerging, becoming a trunk. Thinner than the previous one, more cautious, quite distrusting, and much more skeptic.
And yet, in many ways, much stronger.
And then comes the day that you smile, really smile, for the very first time after many, many bleak months.
It's a very scary moment, consumed with guilt.
Yet, you suddenly realize that you actually might, some day, be happy again.
And that maybe it's OK to start living again.
I read somewhere, that "loss makes us bitter or better".
It made me better. Much better.
Not that I haven't tried the bitterness for a while. I did. And for a very long while.
But I realized it's not my way. It was too easy.
And so, it's really up to you.
You can have a new life. .
And, because it is a new life, that you live as a very different person, it's actually possible to find another love-of-your-life.
Miraculously enough - I did. (thanks to the matching hand of WolfieB).
Seven years.
It's hard to grasp.
Sometimes it seems like it happened ages ago, at a different lifetime.
Almost feels as if I watched it all in some forgotten movie.
And then again, some days it hits right in the face, unexpectedly.
It doesn't take much.
A certain scent, a passing person that looks like his, a song on the radio, the eyes of my friend's son, a sudden memory out of the blue - and I am attacked by a series of flashbacks, fresh and vivid, as if it all happened yesterday, finding myself struggling to breathe.
Seven years.
A very long time, they say.
Time to move on.
Time to forget, isn't it?
That is the common reaction of those who have never experienced loss, or those who do not understand that they cannot understand.
As the song says:
."רק מי שאיבד את הטוב ברעיו, אותנו יוכל להבין"
("Only he who has lost his best friend, can understand us").
Time heals.
Apparently, it's true.
But - like most clichés - it's only partially true.
By now, I realize that the wound will never completely heal, nor form a scar.
And, to be honest:
by now I also know that I don't I want it to.
Oz was the kind of person who can not, should not, and will not be forgotten.
.
.
.
I hope they have enough Marlborough up there, and loads of espresso of the finest quality. . .
Wow. I cried for you today. Thank you for sharing this; to me, it is a story of hope, as well as of love and loss.
Nava
I wasn't expecting to cry...
my words would seem hollow right now.
Know that I'm with you today.
# posted by 
: 1/10/2007 9:36 AM
הזמן עובר - אבל הזכרונות נשארים.
כולנו למדנו מעוז, ואין ספק שתמיד נזכור כי :
"THE GREAT OZ HAS SPOKEN...."
האיש שהראה לנו מזה לחיות בגדול ולהשאר גדול מהחיים .
# posted by : 1/10/2007 12:02 PM
Been thinking of you all day, Oz.
Been thinking of you all day, Nava.
Been trying to think of what Oz would comment if this was reversed, and the blog was in memory of me.
Only thing I can think of is "Let's go have some beers, like we used to."
May sound silly or a cop-out, but I think it's a very fitting way to remember him doing one of the things he did best - hang out with friends.
Thank you, Nava. Your pain and your sincerity go straight to my heart. I think your OZ would be proud of you because - just as he fought to remain a full human being in spite of all his suffering - you have struggled and fought to become the whole and vibrant woman I have had the good fortune to begin to know this year.
# posted by : 1/10/2007 7:19 PM
I had the good fortune to know Oz from his soft angles :-)
Remember that picture of him holding Shaked, as an infant, on his shoulders, letting her puke on his shirt, with an embarrassed smile and concern, if SHE is all right...
Tamir
# posted by : 1/11/2007 1:06 AM
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I wasn't expecting to cry...
my words would seem hollow right now.
Know that I'm with you today.
: 1/10/2007 9:36 AM כולנו למדנו מעוז, ואין ספק שתמיד נזכור כי :
"THE GREAT OZ HAS SPOKEN...."
האיש שהראה לנו מזה לחיות בגדול ולהשאר גדול מהחיים .
: 1/10/2007 12:02 PM Been thinking of you all day, Nava.
Been trying to think of what Oz would comment if this was reversed, and the blog was in memory of me.
Only thing I can think of is "Let's go have some beers, like we used to."
May sound silly or a cop-out, but I think it's a very fitting way to remember him doing one of the things he did best - hang out with friends.
: 1/10/2007 7:19 PM Remember that picture of him holding Shaked, as an infant, on his shoulders, letting her puke on his shirt, with an embarrassed smile and concern, if SHE is all right...
Tamir
: 1/11/2007 1:06 AM 
