Op-Ed: Why I Will be at the Parade

This morning my sister called to ask what she should do about the parade on Sunday. Her children were so excited about it but considering the recent bombings, she was reconsidering whether it was wise to go. Having two little children of my own I didn’t know what to say. There are few things more powerful – or more paralyzing – than a mother’s fear for the well-being of her child. How was I in a position to reassure, persuade or pressure her to go especially since, as Sunday draws closer, I have been feeling growing dread myself.

This is not the first time in my life that one terrible, unbelievably shattering event has threatened to define the choices I make. I lost someone integral to my life without whom it seemed impossible to still be able to exist; it was hard to start dating and attach myself to the love of my life. It was hard not to call 911 if my husband didn’t answer a text within 10 minutes; it was tempting to opt out of long road trips, and it took work not to allow myself to be sure to “say goodbye” in the morbid sense whenever someone close to me was going away. It has been a long road and it has taken courage I never thought I had to open myself up to living again, and not with death hanging over my every action. It has been – and still is – terrifying to open myself up to that kind of vulnerability in the chance that I might be struck senseless again. Thank G-d for the encouragement and clear-headedness of my family that helped me learn to live again and not just get by as a shadow of life always obscured by the fear of death.

All of this has made me less judgmental. I know the extent of the fear and I won’t criticize or judge or blame anyone who is not prepared to take the leap into normal life again. It is something most people, thank G-d, never have to do in their lifetimes, and it take incredible amounts of strength, courage, and continual work. No one should be blamed for feeling fear or making cautious choices.

I still struggle with not letting my tragedy define my future. Sometimes I am able to tap into a spiritual reservoir and believe that Hashem will take care of me. Sometimes I get by with the less ideal form of belief in G-d: belief that whatever He has in store for me I am going to get, no matter how “careful” I am. So although I will take precautions, look both ways before I cross the street and daven, a little part of me has learned to “let go” with the acknowledgement of how much is beyond my control. When my husband asks if he can drive overnight to Montreal with a friend, I can work my way out of an instinctive: “Never!”, believing that in G-d’s almighty (and creative) power He can accomplish whatever it is that He wants to do. This is not the ideal form of emunah but it helps me .

We’ve heard so many stories of courage coming out of the Boston bombing – so many people running away and others running toward to help (our shliach among them) – and so many stories of tragedy and I wish there was something I could do.

The parade is something I can do.

I want to fight back. I’m angry at the terrorists for making me doubt myself, for managing to get into my head no matter how much I try not to allow it, and for the gall of thinking they can interrupt our American and Jewish way of life. The parade will be my way of fighting back. I am not going to let the terrorists win in my own head. I will attend with my two little children. I will stand for Jewish unity, Jewish pride, and the Jewish response to bad things in life: forging ahead…walking forward into my future and the joy and vibrancy I hope it holds. This will be a victory over my own psyche as well as over the terrorists. It will be a point I make to Hashem, like Iyuv did: sticks and stones…but I will still believe. I’ll try to picture the Rebbe standing at the podium and show him that we haven’t abandoned our cause.
I may be trembling underneath, but I will be there.