I have often explained to my long-suffering famly that my devotion to Krav Maga is healthy. I tell them the greatness of martial art goes beyond being able to be healthy or protect ourselves. In life, we will all face moments where the unfairness of the world crushes our spirits. Sometimes, the anger is just too much, and we can feel like we’re going to explode. Allowing us a healthy channel to unleash those emotions is the way we can stay peaceful in the face of our anger. Hitting pads and heavy bags may not change the situation, but it allows us to burn off the emotion.
I was just trying to make excuses for why I wasn’t coming to family dinner. However, I had no idea how true that would be when I faced my worst nightmare coming true.
Loss Beyond Belief
I’ll never forget that cold day. I knew it as soon as I heard my mother’s voice. There was a raw grief that permeated both syllables of my name. Even before she said the words that shattered me, I knew what she was about to say. My beloved grandfather was dead.
I was right. However, it wasn’t a heart attack or stroke, or even a fall. The truth was far more horrific.
On the Sabbath, February 5th, 2022, my grandfather, Jack Mikulincer was in his wheelchair, on his way to synagogue to lead prayers, as he had done for decades. At 99, my Zeidy, as I called him, was still living a full, rich, independent life. His great granddaughter’s Bat Mitzvah was the next day. He and I had made our upcoming Passover plans. We always celebrated together, just the two of us.
All of that was robbed from him when he was killed by the driver of an SUV, in a known dangerous intersection, just blocks from his home in South Brooklyn. My indestructible grandfather, the survivor of the Holocaust, and a soldier in the Israeli War of Independence, my favorite person was gone.
That day, I lost my best friend. I entered into one of the deepest periods of grief. Nothing really mattered anymore.
Yes, I knew he wasn’t immortal. I dreaded this day since I knew the concept of mortality. But thinking of my grandfather lying broken on the street, in front of his horrified best friend was too much for me to bear.
Grief
At first, the grief numbed me to life. I didn’t really care about anything. All my emotions seemed to have melted away into a pool of despair. I am finally comfortable admitting that for a few days, I genuinely lost the will to live. While I wasn’t a danger to myself, I just didn’t care about anything. Nothing mattered because nothing I could do could bring my grandfather back. He was gone and I would never see him again.
I had put away my gloves and shin guards. It was a reminder my grandfather would never see me make P4. It was just one of the “nevers” I had clouding my future. I didn’t even want to see my gear, they reminded me of being happy. Happiness was a feeling I buried with my grandfather.
Anger
It took a week for me to finally feel something. I had expected to feel overwhelming sadness, but instead, over dinner, this rage bubbled up inside of me, making me see red. Someone had carelessly run over my grandfather and they were still alive and happy and living and I was the one broken and left to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right!
I angrily put on my gloves and took a fighting position in front of my Bob. I am a timid martial art student who has to be coaxed to hit harder, but at that moment, I think I could have broken a heavy bag with the force of my rage.
I hit my Bob over and over again, just pounding at him with everything I had in me. Jabs, crosses, elbows, roundhouses, I was a complete hurricane of emotional violence, made physical. I sobbed and I struck, talking out all my fury and grief. I must have sounded unhinged, I’m so grateful my neighbors didn’t call the police.
When I was finished, I lay down on the floor, dripping with sweat and finally feeling alive again. My entire body ached terribly, I knew my legs would have bruises for days, but I didn’t care. I needed that release.
No, it didn’t solve the agony of my loss, but my martial art training allowed me a voice to finally speak about my suffering and be able to express it. Now that I was no longer choked by grief, I could begin healing.
Healing
It’s been a long few months and I still have bad days. I’m still trying to pick up the pieces of my life.
Still, I’m having good days too. And when the days are bad, I have ways to deal. Bob’s always there for me.
Thank you to everyone at Martial Journal, Whistlekick and the Krav Maga community who reached out. It meant so much to me. A special thanks to my instructor Raz, who not only was a constant source of support but was kind enough to dedicate a Krav Maga class and an article to his memory.
Off the mat, Elke is a real estate attorney and blogger, with degrees in urban planning, law, and history. She has worked in both the non-profit and profit sectors, has been awarded numerous fellowships, including serving as the Biodiversity Fellow at the Israeli Ministry of Environmental Protection. She’s proud to serve on the Board of Debate for Peace, which she insists counts as verbal sparring practice.
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Wow Elkie. While I hope to never experience such grief, I can definitely relate to anger, frustration, and the release I also get through Krav training. Thank you for sharing your story. Miss seeing you on the mat.
Thank you so much, I miss being on the mat as well!
Don’t you date fucking quit. HE WOULD NOT HAVE WANTED THAT. YOU KEEP FIGHTING UNTIL THE FIGHTING IS DONE.