Alex's Yarzheit

There once was a magical young man. He wore a large plaid flannel jacket that made him look smaller than he was. Every day he jumped rope in the hallway and girls would lean out their doors to watch as he swished away, dressed in red sweat pants and leaving the smell of man-sweat behind him. His hair was softer than a baby's, his smile sweeter than anything. His eyes crinkled and his nose was freckled. He moved like a cat but dreamt of flying. His smallest sentences lasted hours ....as he...... yes........ considered what you.......... meant.

He believed his curly hair was weighing down his soul. He wrote poetry. He would give you anything you wanted and would offer you more, especially liquorice tasting powder. He liked bad British comedies. He could combine tuna, honey and cucumbers in a salad and it would be delicious. He never talked of the past. Allegedly he once picked his nose, and when caught, he shrugged, well it is natural isn't it? And while he watched others laugh and joke on playgrounds and in parks and classrooms, he was somehow hurting. He broke every one's hearts, and naivete.

The last few months I haven't been able to stop thinking of him. I've been writing all of it down. The times I saw him exercising, borrowed things from him, talked about poetry with him, or just watched because he was so beautiful. The last time I saw him, our short talks that weekend and watching him get his hair cut by Yael, on the playground. And remembering everything about the night we found out he'd died, and our huddle in the living room and the calls I made and I kept repeating "it's so bad" because there are no words for your idea or the world crashing apart. And the ride to Arad and being received with open arms once I passed the gate. And the meals and songs and hugs. And the tears and memorial. And seeing a picture of Alex and Naomi and me on the playground just a few weeks before. He was smiling wasn't he, weren't we?

A year later. I wish I was with people from WUJS, so desperately. Soon Rachel and Emily will come for my birthday. But now it's not enough. I went out tonight and bought a yarzheit candle. At the store they only had one, dusty and a little misshapen. The man asked if I wanted him to order more, God Forbid I answered. This time last year was one of the most intense of my life; intensely sad, intensely passionate, and my connections with others felt stronger and more intimate than ever before or since.

www.alexanderdebeer.com