From a presentation of the Noah's Shore Model for Shimon Peres in Oct. 2003

"Arnon (7) gave a closer look to the composition of the model site and said:
"The six tents create a Star-of-David, don't they?"
"Yes", I said, "and I'm not happy about it,
the Palestinians who'll come to heal, will not like it at all."
"I have an idea", Arnon said,
And he simply opened the circle of the 6 tents towards the Sea..."

Under his "Flag of Love"
Arnon had given me another gift,
of which even I became aware only today,
when I realized the date, the birthday of Rafael's first wife,

and realized,
that his grandfather would have been 80 in a few weeks.

When the quartet is finally in bed on grandma's Wednesday,
I use to read them a book of their choice.

On the eve of my birthday it was the "Colors" Book,
which I myself had asked Arnon to bring this time.
This "godchanneled" book personalizes the "basic colors",
Red, Blue, Yellow & their mixtures, Orange, Green, Violet,
and lets each - through fight and defeat - find its right place,
where they will not create greyish mud, but all shine equally.
They are guided - when asked for - by White~~~

Having found a real connection to this one grandchild,
Rafael started to translate the Swiss book for Arnon.
He hadn't finished, when he died,
so when the book arrived in Israel,
I was asked to complete the task.

This time, one of his cousins must have asked Arnon,
why part of the translation is printed and glued to each page,
while another part is just handwritten onto the later pages.
I heard him answer:
"One part is grandpa's work,
and the other part is grandma's work."

As if I hadn't known this before!
But the way he formulated it,
made me realize for the first time,
that - yes - in death - we once again did co-create.

It was something we dreamt of in all those terrible 3 years of separation.
For me co-creation was supposed to be the content of our matrimonium.

But in real life co-creation occurred only a few times,
when we made little songs for little Immanuel,
his father the lyrics, his mother the music,
which - in time - be came dear especially by Arnon.

Arnon!
Your grandfather Rafael and your grandmother Rachel
around the birth of your father Micha in August 1966

3 triggers in 12 hours,
2 unique, 1 ordinary.
 I start with the latter.

"You always let people climb too high up your tree",
a friend once observed..
"Suddenly you get enough,
you throw them down,
and it's a terrible fall."

Yes, I do this "always",
I give, help and allow,
until I feel run over ~

I've given up fighting this pattern.
But I am getting better in coping with the consequences,
I'm getting better in transforming a curse into a blessing.

No kindergarden!
The quartet has been here a lot.

Their boundless creativity and breathless joy of life
 turn the three rooms, all to their disposal, into chaos.

Today I suddenly became tired of all the intensity,
and therefore fed up with tolerating the chaos.
["I'll not waste energy in making them clean up."]

I started to clear the big table of millions of bits and pieces.

"Unfortunately" - says the part that wants to avoid triggers,
Arnon sat down at the table, while I was still in the middle,
and started to cut another paper mask, adding new scraps.


I began to clear the big table of millions of bits and pieces.

"Unfortunately" - says the part that wants to avoid triggers,
Arnon sat down at the table, while I was still in the middle,
and started to cut another paper mask, adding new scraps.

Yael & Itamar, my daughter's younger children,
are 5 and 3,
and so are Arnon & Itamar, my younger son's kids.

The photos were taken at a later time,
after I got - in March 2002- a digital camera
as a gift from Uri, Yael's and Itamar's father

They always - until grandma-days in 2008 - combined
the creation of something physical,
painting or building for instance,
with playing a role-game,
in this case Yael is the teacher.
Arnon and Yael were just about to enter first grade [2002_08_22]

(2)

It was then, that I exploded.
Exploded? too nice a word!
If yelled words were swords,
they would all four be dead!
I also took dozens of toys
dispersed in my own room
and flung them violently
into the living room.

The smaller ones laughed,
Yael shut her curtains,
and Arnon started to sobb.

I shut my door with a bang,
threw myself on my bed
and cried my heart out,
with exhaustion and guilt.

"There I go again,
let them climb and climb,
and without any warning
come down like a tornado."

Arnon didn't stop sobbing.

I saw myself as a child,
yes, as a married woman,
when all hell broke loose,
which was almost daily,
I cried, as if I'd never stop.

Finally I got a grip
on my shame.
I took the child into my arms,
and we kept crying together.

When the tears subsided,
I made Arnon talk about my rage,
and I made him and Yael listen
to both, my pain and my regret.

I asked their forgiveness.
I promised to warn them,
when they'd climb too high.

(3)

I begged them to stand up for themselves:
"Grandma, can't you tell us quietly,
what you want us to do?"

When I felt that we all were done,
I asked: "Do you want to go back to play
or do you want me to comfort you more?"
Arnon: "I want you to comfort me more."

So the three of us sat hugged closely,
until Arnon fell asleep with exhaustion.
I too lay down, the child in my arm,
and Yael brought us a blanket.

Here, perhaps a year later,
they are "recycling a box"

(5)

I saw Arnon numb with shock.
After a while I saw him approaching Yael
and saying gently:
"Yael, I want to tell you something."
"Not now, not now", said the little girl.
He tried again:
"Yael, I want to tell you something."
When she put him off again,
I felt my blood rushing into my head.
But I managed to explain:
"Arnon, she refuses to listen,
because she is ashamed.
Maybe you want to tell me,
what you want to tell her?"

He agreed and we went hurriedly into my room.
I gathered him into my lap.
I looked at him with expectation.
Finally tears began to run down his cheeks.
Which brought up my own tears.

There we sat, silently crying for a long time.
Then I said:
"I know why I'm crying,
do you know why you cry?"
He didn't.

"It's because what happened with Yael
reminded me of all the many times,
that I wanted to make someone happy,
but instead of feeling happy,
the someone felt, I'd done him wrong.
And what's much more terrible:
the someone then didn't want to talk."

When I said the latter, I sobbed again,
and even now, after so many tears today,
 their reservoir still provides more of them.

(6)

This gave birth to Arnon's resolve.
He got up and faced Yael again.
I peeped around the corner.

"I got up so happy this morning,
because I would see you today,
and then I forgot, I forgot ..."
but he couldn't express himself.
His little sister tried to help him,
and Yael listened attentively.
Somehow ~ the pain melted.

Hours later, when I had a moment alone with him,
I asked:
"How did you make Yael listen to you?"
"I just convinced her."
"How did you do that?"
"I just said: 'Yael!'
and she said: 'what?'
so I knew."

I was proud of him, proud also of his parents,
who had taught him to cope so well with pain
(having - like me - at least learned
"Re-Evaluation Counseling" .

I still don't know, what triggered the little girl.
Nor do I know, why today she coped badly.
Her parents are not less trained than Arnon's.

Remembering her "not now, not now!"
makes me want to cry all over again.

Most of the time there is no trigger
but hilarious laughter !!!
click the earth-sound-button on top of puzzle-piece 51:
"Laughter is the final stage of Healing"

In August 2007, at my home in Arad,
it is Arnon who is comforted by Yael,
as well as by Itamar and Ayelet
Though the latter had triggered the pain.
See the process between crying and laughing
in "Fullmoon-Full-Fill-ment"

From the closure of puzzle piece 2: "Peer Companions" 2003_06_23

Last Wednesday, the "fourth day", as is the term in Hebrew,
the four little ones among my grandchildren came as usual.
Arnon came with two paintings in his hands - for grandma:
"This is the fourth day of Creation.[Bible, Genesis 1]
Look how I found two different versions of painting it."

Deeply touched I showed him my cherished van Gogh painting: