Barak was buried about 100m from my father.
After Rabbi Sher’s eulogy, Adam Mitchell, Barak’s best friend, organised with KES, their former school, to bring out a bagpiper who played The Last Post. It was both eerie and very beautiful, and it really brought on the tears.
We had prayers that evening. Adam delivered the most beautiful eulogy, which precipitated another round of weeping.
We sat shivah for the week and, to keep myself busy, I rummaged through our photo albums and plucked out pictures of Barak, of which there were many. No rabbi could console us with words.
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One of my most vivid memories of that time is of the neighbourhood ice-cream truck playing a tune every day around 4pm.
To this day, it still happens.
It’s a constant reminder of Barak.
Sandy organised a massive black photo album, in which she painstakingly placed every photo of our son since birth.
Although I am not religious at all, I made up my mind to say the Mourners’ Kaddish every day for a year.
Barak had left behind a letter asking the family not to be sad but rather to rejoice in his freedom.
I’m certainly no poet, but I wrote a poem nevertheless.
A life
My little boy, where have you gone?
What remains
A white sheet with vomit stains
Your whole life you tried your hardest
To measure
And left behind your beautiful treasure
Your light was strong, your mind was pure
It was us who were tainted – our mission unsure
Your gentle soul has gone forever
My guilt remains
What remains
Remains.
I was in deep mourning for Barak but had to carry on living and working. I had responsibilities. Above all, I had to keep the company afloat.
There was no room for self-pity; it was an unaffordable luxury.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and then the years passed. I was thankful that I had Catherine, a considerate and affectionate lover, to hold my hand.
It’s often during times of distress that married partners split and families fall apart. The blame game plays out especially in the first two or three years after such a tragedy. Losing Barak causeddeep pain and divisions in our family.
A strange thing happened about three weeks after Barak’s death.
I am not a great sleeper and usually keep the TV on through the night, as the white noise pacifies me. One night, I dozed off only to wake up at about 1am.
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The programme that was playing was Meerkat Manor, which obviously was all about meerkats.
But then I saw a yellow field covered in yellow grass, and the shape of a human watching the meerkats from a distance, about 50m away.
I saw it was a man in a black T-shirt, and I realised it was a rather content-looking Barak.
Not once in this series did any human appear. I pressed “Pause” on the TV button. It was Barak.
I woke Sandy up and asked her what she saw.
“My God, it’s Barak,” she said.
She went right up to the screen. We stared at our son, astounded.
I immediately pressed “Record” and somehow got back to sleep.
First thing in the morning, I pressed “Play” . . . no Barak.
How do you explain that?
This is an edited extract from Soul Mandate: The extraordinary life of a property maverick by Lew Geffen (published by Melinda Ferguson Books). The recommended retail price is R320.
