I'll be returning to Jerusalem this year, a journey I used to make yearly for almost ten years, to visit my daughter who lives there with my sweet grandchildren. It's a long story, and one that I hope you'll be reading in book form in the very near future.
Anyway, several factors have prevented me from returning to Israel on a regular basis, a trip that wasn't on my calendar for 2010...UNTIL...
Judy is a loyal, longtime friend, who taught where my children went to school in their early years. One alumna wrote about her, that "she had a reputation for expecting the most out of kids and a talent for extracting it. Even though she was a notorious stickler, there was an air about her that even fifth graders secretly held in respect, perhaps because of her proper British background, or her passion that infused every lesson, or, more likely, her unparalleled connection with students that extended far beyond her fifth grade class."
And from a teacher colleague: "Judy could challenge a lazy mind to rise up like a phoenix from the ashes. I watched in awe as she successfully tamed one unruly soul after another, doling out reminders that decent behavior goes hand in hand with learning."
My children and I were no exception, having tremendous respect and admiration for Judy. I would check in on her and her husband, Pierre, in Irvine when my travels took me through Southern California. I'd update Pierre on the latest news concerning my daughter and her unusual life, living as a convert in Jerusalem. He was particularly interested, given his background that Judy has detailed for me:
"Pierre was a secular Sephardic Jew, originally French, but like many of his generation, had found himself uprooted and spent years as part of the cosmopolitan European community in Alexandria, Egypt , as well six months in Palestine on a kibbutz in the heady days prior to Israel becoming a nation.
In the 1950s, with the rise of Nationalism in Egypt and the Suez crisis, Pierre, like the majority of Europeans, and especially the Jews, were forced to flee with no compensation from the government for businesses and homes. Families were separated. Pierre was fortunate to have visited an uncle in Ohio some years earlier, so already had a visa extension enabling him to re enter the United States.
Thus, began Pierre's second exodus and the challenge of starting life anew in a foreign land, where his talents as a couturier designer eventually opened the door to a successful career in the motion picture industry in Hollywood. His sister's family was not so fortunate and would spend four years in Paris as refugees, until he helped sponsor them - eventually 19 family members in all. Other cousins settled in Israel, and made new lives, so the ties with the new nation remained strong."
Obviously, Pierre was captivated by the ongoing tales of my daughter's new life that were slowly developing into a manuscript.
Judy had been caring for Pierre at home for the past ten years—lovingly and tenderly—a challenging, exhausting time for both of them, especially in 2009, given the acceleration of his health issues, following hip surgery complications that had precipitated her unexpected retirement in 2001. The two had met in 1970, doing what they were both passionate about, hiking in the wilderness with the Sierra Club. They married on the bridge in Yosemite Valley, "early one summer solstice morning with the falls in full flow and the meadows bursting with spring greenery."
Pierre passed on January 3rd of this year, a blessing to both Judy and himself. He had yearned for the release of his spirit from his ailing body for many months, praying for the time to be near. Ever the artist, he tried visualizing his golden soul rising up from his heart. Judy was inspired to translate this by putting one of his own stunning photos through a particular creative process. He was elated that this analogy would help to guide his spirit home. Judy will be returning again to the High and Wild Sierra Nevada this summer to scatter her beloved's ashes.
I spoke to Judy on the phone, soon after Pierre's passing. I was able to confirm some fun "cosmic winks" that he'd been sending her, and conveyed his absolute exhilaration at having been set free from his broken body. He also expressed his gratitude for every single moment that he'd been given the gift of life in the physical—and each and every possible moment that he spent with his "Amore Mio." Pierre appreciates that Judy now holds him in her heart, remembering him as his younger, dashing, vibrant, elegant self.
Most of what I interpreted from Pierre was validation of Judy's own intuitive sensings—little things that had synchronized before, during, and after Pierre left his body—ongoing telepathy that had been too certain not to trust. Finally, I said, "...Now Pierre is showing me a...I don't know...a sidewalk? a tarmac? It looks like it's extending between me and my daughter's family in Jerusalem...what could he be transmitting here?"
"Louise!" Judy exclaimed, interrupting my attempt to interpret this latest pantomime. " It's an airport runway! Pierre left me 100,000 airline miles! He's wanting me to pay it forward and pass them to you, so you can go to Israel to see your grandchildren this year!"
And so, this is how it is, that I will journey to Jerusalem in March to visit my daughter and her precious family: Airline miles, sent from the "other side."