An Israeli Graveyard

June 3, 2008 - 7:40 PM by

We buried my cousin, Leah Braude, on Sunday afternoon. She was 81, and had been very sick for the last few months, so she was tired of the battle to live. I can easily understand that sentiment, because in many ways, Leah had to fight for many things throughout different periods of her life and at this point, she had just had enough.

SANY0118a.jpgLeah was born in Poland, one of three children, and was 12 when the war broke out in her neck of the woods in 1939. Her father, a rabbi and shochet, had been working in Germany with his non-Jewish partner in order to make a living, returning home only twice a year, on Rosh Hashana and Pesach. But he got out of Germany in time and made it home, escaping with his family to the Russian border where they were then caught by the Soviets and sent to Siberia for the duration of the war. Leah caught tuberculosis as the family made their way back to Germany at the end of the war, and met her husband, Louis, at a German sanitorium where he was also recovering. Her bout of TB was what gave her much physical trouble later in life, but she was never one to complain.

Louis and Leah ended up marrying in 1950 and moving to Israel, first settling in Jerusalem, then moving to the northern development town of Carmiel, where they were one of the first families to settle there. They lived in Carmiel for many years, raising their children, Aryeh and Sima, until they later retired to Haifa. I have vague memories of visiting them in Carmiel as a child, cutting the roses from their garden, and then more vivid memories of visiting them on my own in Haifa, as a student, and later, after I’d made aliyah. They were always our close relatives in Israel, brought even closer by dint of their warmth and hospitality. It’s funny – I always thought of them as my Israeli relatives, but really, they were so quintessentially European in many ways, from Leah’s use of cream in her coffee to Louis’ careful, formal way of speaking and conversing.

Leah’s sense of peace in having come to her end seemed to pervade the crowd at the funeral, made up of her two children, their spouses, her six grandchildren and many relatives and friends. We stood around the gravesite, where her husband, Louis, was buried three years ago, under leafy trees and looking out onto the sunlit plains beyond the Kibbutz Gezer cemetery, where they are both buried. But, understandably, Louis and Leah were not kibbutzniks; their son, Aryeh, and his family moved to the American-established kibbutz some 20 years ago, and they benefited from their residency. I’ll tell you this; I envy them that graveyard – it’s the kind of place where I’d like to be buried. Peaceful, quiet, green and with a very decent view.

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Comments

One Comment on An Israeli Graveyard

  1. Lawrence Minsky on Fri, Jun 6th 2008 9:10 AM

    2. Leah’s life was not easy but given the time and place where she was born,it could have been much worse. Even at 81 her loss was no doubt a source of grief for her family. i feel for them and wish them well. LM.

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