Make Love, Not War! A Plea For Peace
Eight years ago, suddenly and unexpectedly, Peter passed away on a Monday, the first day of June. It came as a shock to me, for we used to tell ourselves that we would die together instantly, after our car crashed into a tree. We would be truly old. I absolutely believed that, for Peter told me so and I took him at his word. He loved me and took great care of me. He would not leave me behind. But that’s not what happened. I was in a state of disbelief for quite a long time. My daughter, Jessica, flew to New York to be with Kelly and me.
There is a scenic favorite spot in New Jersey where both Peter and Kelly loved to go. It is called The Palisades. Kelly loved to ride his motorcycle there. One could hike the trails and enjoy the breathtaking views. There is a little café that serves tea, coffee, cakes, and sandwiches. It is peaceful. It stands alone in the midst of the splendor that God has created, in the middle of nowhere. Peter and I used love to stop there especially in autumn and winter. We loved that place. Usually a cheerful fire in the hearth would heat the little café on cold winter days. It was nothing fancy but simple, serene, and unpretentious. It offered breathtaking views and a sense of calm and peace. That was its attraction. We loved it!
Kelly and Jessica decided we should drive up there on a Sunday. It would be a positive change of scene for us at that point. Ebony was just a few weeks old. We all bundled up into the car, including the dogs. I cradled Ebony in my arms. She was a tiny soft pup. Somehow, holding her against my chest eased the constant pain that throbbed within my being over the deep loss of my husband and comforted me. Peter never got to see her. She was born a few days before he passed away. He was looking forward to seeing her. Alas, he never did. She was too young to be weaned from her mother before he passed away.
When we reached our destination Kelly, Jessica, and Picasso began their hike through the rolling hills and mountains. Holding Ebony close, I bought a cup of coffee from the café and sat outside. I still could not grasp the idea of the permanence of Peter being gone forever. As I sipped at the coffee, tears involuntarily silently ran down my face unchecked. “Why? Why? Why?” I asked myself over and over again as I caressed the pup. The reason eluded me. The puppy was peacefully sleeping in my lap as if she knew she was loved and protected, that nothing would harm her. But that is not true, is it? I caressed her soft baby fur protectively. I’m not God. I was a scared bewildered widow now. I was no longer a wife. I had lost that title through no control of either Peter or myself.
Hours passed. In my misery, I continued to shed silent bitter tears as I cradled Ebony to me as I took little walks then returned back to the bench. The sun was beginning to set. Most of the people left. The café had closed for the day. I became aware that the area was utterly silent and abandoned. The silence almost felt eerily physical. I began to wonder where Kelly, Jessica, and Picasso were. I was getting anxious. Just then a young couple passed by. Seeing that I was alone with my tiny puppy, they approached me. They were concerned. Am I alright? Why was I sitting there alone? When I explained that my son and daughter were hiking, they suggested they should sit with me to keep me company. I was very grateful and appreciative. The couple was married. The interesting thing about them was that one of them was an Israeli and the other a Palestinian. I remember at the time thinking, if two individuals from two enemy countries could love each other and commit to each other, then why could not two opposing countries be at peace? I was raised in a home where race and religion were not of importance. Broad-mindedness and intelligence were of great importance!
Early this morning I heard Kelly exclaim, “Oh no! Oh no!”
It was still dark outside. Concerned, I asked groggily, “What happened? What happened?”
He answered, “The Palestinians and the Israelis are at war again!”
I echoed him! Oh no! Oh no! Then I remembered the motto of my generation, “Make love, not war!” Perhaps the world needs to be reminded once more.