I belong to what is known in Israel as the generation of “the candle kids", I was part of those high school kids who filled every piece of sidewalk or street in Jerusalem in the days following the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin, sitting in small groups, crying over the dream of a better future which was promised. Usually with one or two guitars, singing and crying, about a great person who attempted to offer us a future different from the so-called predestined one. Army. War. Terrorism. Death.
I remember the night of Rabin's assassination. I returned late from the cinema and found my mother sitting in front of the TV, in shock.
I remember the morning that followed the assassination, our arrival at school, the quick organization of most of the teens at school for the trip to Jerusalem, authorized by the school management (at least for all those in the last two years of high school).
But above all I remember our anthem, the song that in the following weeks became the symbolic song of that collective mourning. Forever My Brother (Livkot lecha) by Aviv Gefen. We sang it everywhere and cried. Again, and again. With guitars or A Capella, humming or singing.
This song had followed me for a long time. And then it disappeared from my mind as years have passed. Every now and then, as part of the Aviv Gefen playlist, I still listen to it, but as a "background" song, accompanying other things I do.
On Friday evening, September 10th 2021, I was lying on the carpet in the living room with all 3 children. The oldest girl and I whistled tunes and the "little ones" had to guess them. Except that they didn’t really know a lot of real songs (that is, not nursery rhymes). And then I opened YouTube.
At that period my oldest became enchanted by singing and was experimenting with her voice, so I first let her listen to a song by Ofra Haza, a song called “Along the sea” (Leorech Hayam). I chose the version that the late Ofra sang in 1995, the week after the assassination during a memorial event for Rabin in Tel Aviv. The Mahawals at the beginning of the song are fascinating, and my oldest, who was born and raised in Italy her whole life, was under a spell. But I suddenly I got lost, I sank in the words. How accurate are they for me. How much they hurt me.
And then, when the song ended, another song came to my mind, Livcot Lecha (crying for you), as both of them had been sung in the same memorial event. And so I continued to listen to the song, along with my girl.
And out of nowhere my tears started to flow. Because these words, even if written for a friend and not for a true, brother of blood and flesh, these words managed to penetrate my soul, to that place that until now I keep under padlocks, so as not to collapse, to have the strength to be and look after the 3 children. These words that I sang dozens (hundreds??) of times as a young girl now have such a different meaning. So personal. So privately mine.
Eternally my brother, I will remember you forever, and we will meet in the end, you know.