Dovid Meyer: The Orphan From Jerusalem

While the children were at school another tragic episode, totally unexpected, threatened the precarious fortunes of the Meyer family.

Elisheva Meyer had heard repeatedly on the radio, and read in the newspaper, that the government had taken upon itself to care for families of all those who fell in the war, by giving them a regular pension to replace, at least in part, the income lost by the death of the husband. Mrs. Meyer was expecting to hear very shortly, that she had been granted a weekly sum for herself and the children. Together with her intended part-time teaching, she would have enough to live on. It would be terribly hard to rear three children and the baby she expected on her own. Life would be terribly lonely and sad, but at least, financially they would be secure.

Then the social worker came.

It was the same woman who had brought her the sad tidings of her husband's death. She had visited Elisheva a few times since then and, although not of her cultural background, found her very sympathetic. She helped her in the first weeks of her bereavement with warm affection and sound advice.

"Oh, hello, it's nice to see you again!" she said with a smile. "I suppose you have come about my pension?"

"I have something to tell you about that, but let us sit down comfortably. How are you managing with the children? Are they back at school?" And so they chatted about this and that. It seemed to Mrs. Meyer that she was embarrassed and reluctant to come to the point of her visit.

"I am afraid that I have been asked to give you some news which will distress you. You know, of course, that your husband was not in the army. He volunteered to bring comforts and Esrogin to the troops in the front line. He carried out his self-imposed task without regard to his personal safety. The whole country is proud of these volunteers who acted just as heroically as our soldiers and pilots... But unfortunately, the law does not provide for pensions to civilians. Believe me, we have tried everything we could to obtain a pension for your family, but it's just impossible. Do not despair, Mrs. Meyer. I'm sure we'll be able to arrange help for you in another way. We are inundated with letters from families all over the world, whose hearts have been touched by our tragedies and we will find a wealthy family abroad who will be pleased to give you regular financial help. Do not consider this as charity, which I know you would refuse. It is just that all Jews are brothers and wish to share our heavy burden of sacrifices. After all, what is all the money in the world compared to the death of a husband and father."

Mrs. Meyer sat still as if turned to stone. As the social worker broke the news, her face gradually turned crimson and then dreadfully pale. Hardly trusting herself to speak, she formally thanked her and the social worker, noticing her deep distress, quickly took her leave, promising to come in a few days.

Elisheva Meyer collapsed on a chair, and gave herself up to a storm of weeping. She had been living on her nerves since that terrible day when she learned of her husband's death. Her grief had threatened to engulf her and only by calling on the last reserves of willpower, for the sake of her children, had she been able to continue a semblance of normal life.

But the terrible news she had just heard broke her spirit completely. It was just too much for any human being. Alone with three children, expecting another baby, she just could not face the blackness and misery of living endlessly on charity.

She had always prided herself on managing the family budget without getting into debt. The children had been brought up to give and not to take and now they were to become a rachmones, an object of pity and charity? "Ribono shel Olam," Master of the Universe, must you punish me endlessly? Will you not have pity on me and my orphaned children? Must we go through life as beggars? Have I been so proud before that you must break my spirit completely? Oh Father, I cannot bear it anymore. It is too much for one poor woman to bear alone. Why I have been visited with the afflictions of Job..." Such were the thoughts of Elisheva Meyer as her children returned from school...

Dovid ran happily into the apartment bursting with his news that he was starting work tomorrow. But the scene that met his eyes silenced him and he felt afraid. His mother, her head cushioned on the kitchen table, was sobbing brokenly, Yael sitting on her lap and Ruth clinging to her arm repeating like a robot: "Mama, we will pray, I promise, we will pray so much that we will be saved, someone will help us. Please don't cry anymore, Mama dear," she kept on begging.

"What... What is it? What has happened?" he asked with sinking heart, kissing his mother. What new disaster could have struck them? "Please, Mama, stop crying and tell me. I cannot bear to see you all in such a state."

Ruth spoke first, wiping her tears. "The social worker came!" "And so?" said Dovid. "She told Mama that Father was not a soldier and we can't have a pension." "But he died like a soldier at the front helping the troops and he did a great Mitzva going without being asked." Mrs. Meyer replied: "They said he was not called up, he was a civilian volunteer and pensions are only paid to soldiers."

Walking to synagogue early next morning, Dovid was struck by the bareness of the trees in the grey light of the winter morning. The wind-swept branches were a sad and depressing sight. Could it be that they were also desperate? Did they think their leaves were gone forever? They seemed to shiver under the rain and the bitter wind; but I know, thought Dovid, I know for sure, that these naked trees will soon be covered again with bright green leaves and pink flowers. Spring always follows winter and the sun will soon be bright again... Perhaps for us it will be the same again... But Father will not come back! If only his body would be found and buried on the Mount of Olives, the last resting place for the Jews of Jerusalem for so many generations, we would feel more at peace... I would at least be able to fulfil the last duty every son owes to his father, the saying of Kaddish to help him to repose in paradise...

It was with a sadder heart than usual that he recited his prayers this morning, adding a special prayer for making a comfortable livelihood, imploring the Creator to help them out of distress.

Ruth also got up early and said her prayers with great feeling. This sudden worry over money matters was weighing heavily on her frail shoulders. What did it all mean? Would they go hungry cold? Perhaps they would have to move to a smaller and uglier flat, just when they were getting a new baby... A frightening thought sprang into her mind: The family might be separated and the children sent to an orphanage if Mama could not look after them. Poor Ruth! She was really scared and prayed with all her soul and heart: "Please G-d, don't let Mama be so desperate! Please keep us together! Please let us find the body of our dear father! Please... Please... Please... "And tears were rolling down her pink cheeks.

She then hurried out to do the shopping. The cold was bitter that early morning in Jerusalem. The neighborhood's friendly beggar had already taken up his customary position, sitting on the grill of the cellar window of the bakery basement, warming himself in the rising heat of the big oven below. Ruth always smiled at him and put a little coin in his bowl, but today she averted her face. She was now scared of him and his poverty! She saw herself in rags like him, one hand stretched out, the other protecting little Yael... What a nightmare! She rushed into the bakery, searching for her purse suddenly thinking: "Perhaps there is no money in it and I shall have to buy bread on credit and the baker will write it in his big book, as he does for the poor people." Frantically she searched her pockets for the purse, opened it with trembling fingers... Thank G-d! It was well filled with notes and coins. She felt happier now and on the way out went up to the beggar and gave him two shiny coins instead of one. The specter of poverty and destitution had frightened her out of her wits and was not to leave her for many years.

Back home Mama was still asleep. Yael, sitting in the kitchen hugging her teddy bear, was sucking her thumb thoughtfully. Silently, Ruth prepared breakfast for the children. When Dovid returned from shul, they ate heartily, and after cleaning up and leaving a place for Mama's breakfast when she woke up, departed on tiptoe for school.

Since their father's death they had not played about on their way to school. Life was too sad for them: Their heads were filled with the worries and problems of the grown up world. It would be a long time before they would be carefree and happy again.

Mrs. Meyer woke up at ten o'clock. She had overslept and neglected her children. She was pleasantly surprised to find the kitchen tidy and her breakfast laid; she was overcome by feeling of deep tenderness for her wonderful children. Elisheva felt guilty for giving expression to her grief so nakedly in front of her treasures yesterday; it must have upset them badly. Still listless and depressed, all alone in her misery, she swallowed a cup of coffee but could not face breakfast. She hated being alone. Wandering into the children's room, she wished she had kept Yael at home to break the terrible silence and desolation. Even death would be better than this misery and hopelessness, and the daily grind of bringing up her four children. But what would happen to them without her? She remembered a neighboring family where after the mother's sudden death, the children were finally put into an orphanage where they turned from bright and friendly youngsters into dull and resigned immature adults. She would not abandon her children, she could not, especially the baby to come! Hopefully it would be a baby boy, then he could be named after his father. The feeling of a new life in her was a gleam of light in the darkness. However, she felt lethargic and exhausted. Her head ached and she dragged herself back to bed, to sleep again until the children came back from school. She woke up but felt cold and shivering, too tired to get up, drifting into fitful sleep.

When the girls returned home, they found her asleep, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Noticing that she had not touched her breakfast, Ruth said to Yael: "Mama is not well, come with me to the market. We will buy eggs, fish and vegetables. Then we will prepare a good soup."

"I will help you to peel the potatoes and to beat the eggs. I don't want fish, too full of bones," said Yael.

"I will take them out for you. We must eat to encourage Mama to eat. I must buy some tea for Mama, she loves tea with lemon."

"Specially when she is ill," went on little Yael. When they came back, with a full shopping basket, they found Mama in her dressing gown, sitting in the kitchen. "I am sorry children I fell asleep and haven't prepared anything for supper."

"Don 't worry Mama. We will make it ready. You are shivering and hot. Your eyes are shining. Have you got a temperature?"

"I feel a bit feverish. It must be a touch of the flu. Is there any tea my darling?"

"We just bought some," said Yael, "and lemons specially for you."

"Please Mama, go back to bed. I will bring you tea and the thermometer," said Ruth with the authority of a nurse.

"We will cook tonight, and make you fish without bones," announced Yael, putting on her pinafore.

"Where is Dovid? Why is he not yet home?"

"He went straight from school to Reb Yitzchok the tailor to work!" They replied together.

"Oh yes! I completely forgot. He is a such a good boy." Gently Ruth helped her mother back to bed. She smoothed her pillow and covered her with a blanket. She then disappeared in her room and came back a few minutes later, dressed up as a nurse: White overalls, white apron and a tiny cap on her blonde head; a disguise she had probably used on Purim and which fitted her to perfection. She was, after all, only eleven and even in those hard times, her character could not resist a bit of fun. Above all she wanted to cheer up her mother and all the family.

In the kitchen, the kettle was hissing, while Yael covered a tray with a white napkin. From the top cupboard Yael tried hard to bring down the best china cup and saucer reserved for important visitors. She was perched on a chair, hauled with great difficulty, on the table. When she saw her sister's attire, she almost fell off and burst out laughing. Ruth helped her down and together they finished preparing the tray for their precious patient. Yael brought it in, while Ruth marched behind bringing the thermometer, the bottle of surgical spirit and a piece of cotton wool. Mother smiled. "My wonderful children!" Ruth placed the thermometer in her mouth and took her hand to count the pulsations, but of course she did not know how, she was only pretending to be a nurse. "Mama, you are quite sick! We will have to keep you in bed for a few days. Hot drinks and aspirins, soup and fruit juices! Above all you must not worry otherwise your temperature will rise and you will be taken to hospital and I won't be able to nurse you anymore," she said with mock seriousness. "I don't want Mama to go away," wailed Yael. "Don't be silly. I was only joking. Come we will prepare a light soup and Mommy will be better in no time."

Poor Elisheva welcomed her illness. At least she could stay in bed without feeling guilty for neglecting her children. A broken heart is not an illness known to medicine, but fever can be measured and absolved the patient from his obligations. She could now rest for a few days and perhaps this enforced rest would restore her mental equilibrium. It might give her the will and strength to pick up the strands of her brutally disrupted life.

The glow of the fever gave her an allusion of comfort and snugness, she had missed since her husband's death. She lay back in her bed and surrendered to the drowsiness of flu: No responsibility, no duties, no insoluble problems!

Dovid returned from his first day's work happy, proud and eager to describe his novel experiences. "It is not Purim!" he exclaimed, as he saw Ruth's uniform. "No, it is unfortunately not Purim, but I have appointed myself as Mama's nurse!" she answered haughtily. "Mommy is in bed with the flu!" said Yael. "And with a high temperature!" went on Ruth, on the same tune. "Do not disturb her, she is sleeping!"

Dovid was oddly pleased to learn of his mother's illness, for it provided a physical explanation of mother's strange moods and odd behavior of the last weeks. It had frightened him profoundly, like an earth tremor shaking the solid walls and foundations of a house, which gives us a feeling of insecurity for a long time. He had feared confusedly that the stability of their family and their house was on the verge of collapse, but now he attributed it to his mother's flu. The infection had sagged her strength and depressed her. He remembered how weak he had been when he had the flu two years ago, and also how quickly he had recovered and regained his strength. Mommy would surely get back her stamina just as quickly.

The girls had cooked a nourishing meal of vegetable soup and boiled fish served with a sauce vinaigrette. They had laid the table with special care in the dining room. From her bed, Mrs. Meyer watched her children serving and eating, a deep love welled up in her. "How much they need me and I need them," she thought. "Only they can restore my sanity and bring an end to my depression. Only though them -- and in them -- can my life go on." She felt grateful to her children for filling the emptiness in her. It was her one hope and consolation. She fell asleep to the noise of washing up in the kitchen.

"Tomorrow I will ask Dr. Berman to visit Mama," Dovid told Ruth.

"Should I stay at home to look after her?"

"We will see how she is in the morning."

"I also want to stay with Mama and nurse her," said Yael.

"No, Yael, your will help more by going to school. She must have a complete rest and perfect quiet."

"How was your first day's work, Dovid? Did you do a lot? Was it hard?"

"No, quite easy! I sewed buttons on coats and pants, little buttons, big buttons, white ones and black ones, dozens and dozens of them. Reb Yitzchok showed me first how to do it and I copied him so well that he let me continue on my own. Tomorrow, he will teach me how to line a sleeve and soon I will be a famous master tailor," he finished laughingly.

"And you will make me a beautiful coat," said Yael clapping her little hands. She jumped to his neck to embrace him, as she did to her father. Dovid put his arms around her and held her tightly.

"I love you like Father. Please will you sit by my bed and sing the song of learning, like Father did every night?"

"Yes, little Yael, get into pajamas and I will learn by your bed until you fall asleep." Soon the girls were in bed and Dovid brought his Talmud volume and started reviewing. He swayed and hummed the melody as he studied, and Yael, shutting her eyes, could almost believe that her Father had come back. The familiar notes of the melody eased her sad little heart, and soon she breathed deep and regularly, a half smile on her lips. She was a beautiful five year old child asleep. But a child without a father!

Ruth was proud of her big brother. She had retained her tears as long as Yael was awake. But now as she recited the Shema prayer, she cried silently for her ever lost father. She wanted him. She needed him. And he would never answer anymore!

Dovid left the room on tiptoe after stroking her head. "Good night, Ruthy, courage! Courage, nurse!"

As he heard his mother moving, he brought her a hot lemon tea and two aspirins, following the nurse's instructions. She was coughing and her eyes were bright with fever.

"Dovid, dear, I did not even ask you about your new work."

"Oh, it was easy, Mama! Only sewing buttons and Reb Yitzchok was pleased. They want to visit us on Shabbes if it won't tire you too much."

"We will see later how I am. At the moment I don't feel like seeing anyone. I feel guilty giving you so much work. Ruthy is so efficient and kind, a real little mother and you are all working so hard... I must take a sleeping pill. Good night, my precious child. G-d bless you."

Dovid kissed her gently on her burning forehead and went into the kitchen. He was very tired but he had promised not to neglect his studies and continued reviewing his Talmudic studies steadily for another hour.