My sweet boy. Today, is your birthday.

Today, 5 years ago, you came out early in the morning on a hot summer day in Melbourne. I remember holding you in my arms, and looking at mum who was so glowing, so beautiful. Everyone looking at the picture below, taken on the day you were born, can’t believe mum could look so beautiful so soon after giving birth to you. It’s now easy to understand. It was you, and what you brought to her life, to all of our lives. There were 3 of us on the first day of 2011, but by the second day, you came, and turned us into a more complete family.

Today, a cold winter day in Tel-Aviv, we are sitting here at home. We have all your toys out, we spent the morning watching many videos and photos of you, and we have just come back from Lunz Cafe – one of your favourite Cafes, right by our former home. Your last home. Noam had some pancakes, and we played Hang Man, using words that make us think of you. Later today, we will have a cake for your birthday, light some candles and sing for you. Noam might even play something for you on the new keyboard he got yesterday. I am sure that had we still been in Canberra, we would have had also invited your ACTON friends, particularly Jasper, and Thomas, to have some cake, and help us celebrate you.

The only thing missing on this birthday Lali, is you. I look everywhere, and I see your pictures, and your videos, and your toys, and your music, and your clothes. But I can’t see you anywhere my little Eli, and my heart aches so much because I so badly want to see you, I so badly want to hold you, hug you tight, and kiss you. I want to tell you how much I love you. I want to tell you how much I miss you. I want to tell you so many other things. I want to be able to tell you what we couldn’t when you were still here. That around 13:30 on the 5th of May 2014, the day you were so suddenly diagnosed with a fatal brain tumor, I died inside. That I still cannot get past that day. That this day was, remains, and forever will be, the hardest day of my life –  yes, even harder than the day you had actually spread your wings and took to the sky, 308 days later. I want to tell you how, even though I know better, I can’t stop quietly and secretly wishing that you are about to come back through your little baby sister, due to be born any day now. I find myself hoping she will be born today, as if that somehow makes it more likely that it will actually be you, coming back to us.

My heart remains unwilling, unable, to stomach what my head knows since March 9th 2015. Often, when driving alone in the car, I put on the songs you loved – Burning Heart, Surrender to Reason, Beauty of the Beast, and others, and for brief moments, I can see you at the back of the car, drumming on your thighs. I can see your head happily nodding, and I can hear you singing. I can hear you impatiently grunting when the image from a particular song or album disappeared as my phone’s screen automatically went to sleep, prompting me to quickly activate the screen again so you can keep looking at the picture. I know exactly which lines of which songs you liked singing out loud, and when the moment comes, I often turn the music down a little so I can more clearly hear you singing the part. The experience is made more powerful because many of the songs you liked feature strong themes of love, passion, life, & hope. I also play you new songs Lalush – most of my favorite bands have already released new albums since you left, and I find myself playing these albums for you Eli, imagining which songs would make it to your favorites playlist. Driving and playing music for you are some of my favorite moments Eli, even if sometimes I almost have to pull over on the side of the road to wipe my face from the tears that cloud my sight. It is during those moments Eli that I find myself shaking my head in disbelief. It is during those moments that I fully experience the full depth of my sorrow, and that I struggle with thoughts that I will never be able to be happy again without you by my side. But I also know that with your help, it will eventually happen my Eli. I know your sensitivity and kindness will eventually guide me on my slow path back to happiness. I know you are sending your sister our way just for that.

Thank you Eli. Thank you so much. My heart has been very heavy all day, but having written this message for you, I feel a little lighter again. I know you are out there, taking care of mum, Noam, me, and the many other people out there whose lives you’ve deeply touched – who love you, and take care of us. This is the first out of many, many birthdays we will have to celebrate, without you being able to enjoy that breakfast in bed, the fun activities arranged for you, blowing your candles, or opening your presents. But January 2nd will forever be your special day – our very special day – and we will celebrate your short and beautiful life, and the honour of being your family, till the last day of our lives.

I love you Eli. I love you to eternity and beyond.