Chapter Sixteen: Elek’s Death

One Friday in January 1981, Bela received a telephone call from Doctor Mashiach from Israel, telling her that my younger brother Elek died in the hospital in Zafat at the age of 55. Doctor Mashiach who had stayed with his wife as our guests in Montreal several years prior to this date, was a personal friend of my brother's.

That same evening my older brother Chaim and I boarded a British Airways plane for Israel. Arriving at the Ben Gurion airport we found that Chaim's passport had expired. We explained to the customs officer the reason for our arrival and he issued a temporary permit so that Chaim could attend the funeral but he would not be allowed to leave Israel unless he obtained a valid passport from the Canadian Consulate.

Waiting for us at the airport, was doctor Mashiach's wife, who drove from Zafat to pick us up. We arrived at Zafat on Saturday at midnight.

Before entering Elek's house to meet the family (our sister-in-law Zahawa and her four children) Chaim choked up with tears in his eyes, and was tongue-tied. I told him to calm down -- we came to give the family a lift, not to make their present situation more difficult. To my amazement the family in Israel took the death of a husband and father more stoically than Chaim and I.

In Israel, "shiva" is observed somewhat differently than in Canada and the U.S. Our practice is that the bereaved family members sit on special low chairs for the "shiva" whereas in Israel they sit on a mattress on the floor. After a couple of days, my back (lower spine) became very painful. I could not sleep at night and lost my appetite completely. My feelings after my brother's death were locked up inside me (after our father's death I assumed the role of a substitute father to Elek) and I felt very depressed -- it was a very distressful period for me.

At the end of the "shiva" period, we drove to Tel Aviv to the Canadian Consulate to obtain a new passport for Chaim. The assistance, politeness and expedience we received from the staff was extraordinary. I was elated and extremely proud to be a Canadian.

I returned to Montreal a sick man. Upon being examined by our doctor, he said "you look like you came out of the concentration camp. Now what happened?"

I briefed him about the death of my younger brother, It took me several weeks to shake off the depression.

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