After a week in Israel in steamy July 2007, I flew to Copenhagen where a cruise I was going on was departing from. My friend Lee from San Jose (California) flew separately and met me in Copenhagen. We stayed there for two days before boarding the Celebrity Constellation.
As we were walking around town, I suddenly thought of Yoram. Yoram served in the Israeli army in the same unit where I served, but not until after I had finished my three year service. I met him at a unit reunion party, and we clicked. We became very good friends for a long time. And then Yoram moved to France to study fashion, and after a while I moved to the USA. This was back in the late 80s, well before email, the Internet and Facebook, so we lost touch. Every once in a while I remembered Yoram and wondered how I might locate and see him again. Many times I searched on the Internet but found no mention of him. And then, for no reason at all, Yoram popped into my head, there in Copenhagen. I had a strange feeling. I thought that for sure I was going to run into him around the next corner or on the ship. I didn't, and it kept bothering me the whole week of the cruise. I was filled with the urge to find him.
After the cruise I returned to San Francisco. I asked a couple of old Israeli friends how we could track Yoram down. One guy remembered his dad's name who was living in Paris. Then I remembered his mom's name, who lived near Tel Aviv. I looked her up on the Internet in the Israeli phone book, and sure enough - there was her number. Why did it not occur to me all these years to contact her? Duh.
The phone rang, she answered. I said, hi my name is Zafrir, I'm an old friend of Yoram's from the army. I lost touch with him some 20 years ago when he moved to Paris. Any way I can reach him, please? She said no, he passed away 13 years ago.
It took me a good few seconds to regain the ability to speak. What happened, I whispered in a choking voice? She replied that after tiring of fashion, Yoram decided to change course, left Paris and was studying architecture, until he became ill. Did he return to Israel to study, I asked? No, she answered, he was living in Copenhagen...
I told her that I called her because I had just returned from Copenhagen where Yoram popped into my head and wouldn't leave. We were both stunned.
On my next trip to Israel last April, I met with her at Yoram's grave. She was so grateful to have someone come visit. She brought a photo album with her and I almost couldn't hold back the tears. I've had old relatives and even some young friends die before, but nothing ever hit me as hard as finding out about Yoram's death. The realization that I will never see my buddy again.
She visits the grave every Friday morning. Brings a watering can with her on the bus. Washes the tombstone, waters the plants, trims the stems of fresh flowers.
As we were walking around town, I suddenly thought of Yoram. Yoram served in the Israeli army in the same unit where I served, but not until after I had finished my three year service. I met him at a unit reunion party, and we clicked. We became very good friends for a long time. And then Yoram moved to France to study fashion, and after a while I moved to the USA. This was back in the late 80s, well before email, the Internet and Facebook, so we lost touch. Every once in a while I remembered Yoram and wondered how I might locate and see him again. Many times I searched on the Internet but found no mention of him. And then, for no reason at all, Yoram popped into my head, there in Copenhagen. I had a strange feeling. I thought that for sure I was going to run into him around the next corner or on the ship. I didn't, and it kept bothering me the whole week of the cruise. I was filled with the urge to find him.
After the cruise I returned to San Francisco. I asked a couple of old Israeli friends how we could track Yoram down. One guy remembered his dad's name who was living in Paris. Then I remembered his mom's name, who lived near Tel Aviv. I looked her up on the Internet in the Israeli phone book, and sure enough - there was her number. Why did it not occur to me all these years to contact her? Duh.
The phone rang, she answered. I said, hi my name is Zafrir, I'm an old friend of Yoram's from the army. I lost touch with him some 20 years ago when he moved to Paris. Any way I can reach him, please? She said no, he passed away 13 years ago.
It took me a good few seconds to regain the ability to speak. What happened, I whispered in a choking voice? She replied that after tiring of fashion, Yoram decided to change course, left Paris and was studying architecture, until he became ill. Did he return to Israel to study, I asked? No, she answered, he was living in Copenhagen...
I told her that I called her because I had just returned from Copenhagen where Yoram popped into my head and wouldn't leave. We were both stunned.
On my next trip to Israel last April, I met with her at Yoram's grave. She was so grateful to have someone come visit. She brought a photo album with her and I almost couldn't hold back the tears. I've had old relatives and even some young friends die before, but nothing ever hit me as hard as finding out about Yoram's death. The realization that I will never see my buddy again.
She visits the grave every Friday morning. Brings a watering can with her on the bus. Washes the tombstone, waters the plants, trims the stems of fresh flowers.
Edited to add:
Yoram's mom Batia Solomon passed away in September 2022 at the blessed age of 87. She was buried at Yoram's side. Yoram's grave appears to have been remodeled to match Batia's. They are beautiful together. Well done son/brother David.
Dear Zafi:
ReplyDeleteLove Yoram story! Specially because he was born April 28th. Is a good day to start a live, though short beutiful!