© All rights reserved olamot -  moran mordo 2012
www.olamot-art.co.il   |  olamot.art@gmail.com  |  050.2378786


No one talks about it…

Our entire lives we share stories and experiences with those around us,
though at times these stories do not pertain to them.

We speak with them about the fears of a crucial exam, a job interview, about University
or military service.  About the trip abroad, the guru we met in the far-east,
about the operation we had done or a disease.  About our annoying mother-in-law, or sister-in-law.
About the weird date from the night before, about the fear of driving. 
About kids, the relationship, sex, love.  About pregnancy and marriage. 
About the tough boss, the overdraft, the mortgage or moving to a new apartment.
But no one speaks about death.  Why?

The parent, the child, the brother or grandparent, the aunt of a friend, the neighbor from downstairs,
the childhood friend, the shopkeeper, the teacher, the son-of, the commander, the athlete, the mother
of someone from our grade, the colleague, the combat soldier, the classmate.
Someone.  We all have someone, a loved one we lost.

The ambulance we saw down the street, the door bell that broke the silence after midnight,
the doctor’s expression as he steps out of the room, the telephone from a childhood friend we almost forgot about,
the police marker by the side of the road, the two officers in uniform through the door’s peephole,
sobbing.  We all have that moment, engraved in us.

The cemetery, the funeral, the shiva’a, kadish, flowers, artistic photography, commemoration, the prayers, minyan, the memorial, the obituaries, private cemetery, widower, orphan,   tombstone. 
Concepts. A world that slowly uncovers and appears to us.

Death.  Common fate.
It’s around us, part of our lives.  Sometimes it arrives by surprise, sometimes by a long enough warning.
We feel it in our heart, and our stomach.  It brings out the pain, the tears, anger, forgiveness and love. 
It crushes us, reshuffles the cards, twists reality as we know it, makes us think, ask, wonder,
arrive at new understandings and be sorry.Miss.
Death speaks with all of us in the same language. 
We should not be mute. We all speak the same language.
Perhaps we should speak, share and experience because this concerns all of us.
Perhaps, we should say out loud: “I lost”, “I’m in pain” “I’m sad” “I miss”. 
Perhaps we should deal with memorializing and commemorating instead of denying.
perhaps we should deal with the loss, and not with hiding the pain.

Perhaps we should understand that we are not expected to get over the death of a loved one we have lost,
but only to learn to live with his presence in our lives.
Perhaps we should just talk about it…