Shulamit "Micah" Peled, Z"L, 5/21/1927 - 12/9/2006
Shulamit "Micah" Peled, Z"L, 5/21/1927 - 12/9/2006
One year ago my maternal grandmother, Shulamit "Micah" Peled passed away. It was a Saturday morning and I was visiting my new girlfriend, Sophia, in Richmond. I heard my mobile phone ring and in the instant that I picked it up I knew something was terribly wrong.
I'm sure in some internet or email based survey I've encountered the questions, "What is the worst feeling in the world?" or, "What is the worst sound in the world?" I know the answer to these two questions without a doubt or hesitation. The worst sound in the world for me is the sound of my mother crying and it induces the worst emotion in me, utter despair. There was a timbre in my mother's voice that told me unmistakably she had been crying; and there was little I could do to keep from crying myself. One instant I was hysterical, in the next I was empty.
Mom informed me that I had to drive to Galax immediately to take care of dad and my youngest brother, Ben. Dad had recently undergone cancer surgery and was still on the mend; I had to ensure he didn't strain himself. Ben was still in High School and I just had to make sure things ran smoothly while mom was away taking care of the funeral arrangements and the rest of the family in Israel. I took a shower while Sophia made me breakfast and food for the road. And then I drove the four-and-a-half lonely hours from Richmond to Galax...
Thank you, Sophia, for taking such good care of us in our time of grief. I love you, my wife.
I meant to post about it last year but too many things occupied my time and so instead I will now post the short eulogy I wrote about her for the hometown newsletter:
There is a specific memory of my Savtah that is especially precious to me. One night after dinner Micah and I walked from the dining hall to my parents' apartment in the Kabarah neighborhood. We became so engrossed in our conversation that we walked right past the apartment and did not realize it until we had passed several more buildings. We laughed about it and didn't care; we were having such a wonderful time talking about my favorite subjects of the day: Volcanoes and Outer Space. We walked back to my parents' apartment and found that no-one was home so we decided to walk to Savtah Micah's apartment all the way across the Kibbutz next to the Field School. Again, we were so engrossed in our conversation we walked right past her apartment and again had to turn back. I loved talking with my Savtah and I think it was from her that I inherited my sense of wonder and love of the sciences. I love you Savtah, and I miss you very much.
One year ago my maternal grandmother, Shulamit "Micah" Peled passed away. It was a Saturday morning and I was visiting my new girlfriend, Sophia, in Richmond. I heard my mobile phone ring and in the instant that I picked it up I knew something was terribly wrong.
I'm sure in some internet or email based survey I've encountered the questions, "What is the worst feeling in the world?" or, "What is the worst sound in the world?" I know the answer to these two questions without a doubt or hesitation. The worst sound in the world for me is the sound of my mother crying and it induces the worst emotion in me, utter despair. There was a timbre in my mother's voice that told me unmistakably she had been crying; and there was little I could do to keep from crying myself. One instant I was hysterical, in the next I was empty.
Mom informed me that I had to drive to Galax immediately to take care of dad and my youngest brother, Ben. Dad had recently undergone cancer surgery and was still on the mend; I had to ensure he didn't strain himself. Ben was still in High School and I just had to make sure things ran smoothly while mom was away taking care of the funeral arrangements and the rest of the family in Israel. I took a shower while Sophia made me breakfast and food for the road. And then I drove the four-and-a-half lonely hours from Richmond to Galax...
Thank you, Sophia, for taking such good care of us in our time of grief. I love you, my wife.
I meant to post about it last year but too many things occupied my time and so instead I will now post the short eulogy I wrote about her for the hometown newsletter:
There is a specific memory of my Savtah that is especially precious to me. One night after dinner Micah and I walked from the dining hall to my parents' apartment in the Kabarah neighborhood. We became so engrossed in our conversation that we walked right past the apartment and did not realize it until we had passed several more buildings. We laughed about it and didn't care; we were having such a wonderful time talking about my favorite subjects of the day: Volcanoes and Outer Space. We walked back to my parents' apartment and found that no-one was home so we decided to walk to Savtah Micah's apartment all the way across the Kibbutz next to the Field School. Again, we were so engrossed in our conversation we walked right past her apartment and again had to turn back. I loved talking with my Savtah and I think it was from her that I inherited my sense of wonder and love of the sciences. I love you Savtah, and I miss you very much.