Touching the World of Angels: How My Daughter's Short Life Changed Mine

by Seth Clyman

Overview

Grief-stricken father Seth Clyman spent seven days mourning the loss of his two-month-old daughter—the seven days of shivah in the Jewish religion—questioning the meaning of life as he tried to come to terms with his infant daughter's death. As friends and family came to pay their respects, Seth felt as though he was falling into a black hole— weakened, humbled, and exposed, he spent those seven days examining a world he never knew existed. But when Seth emerged on the last day, something had shifted. He was a different person, a man who had the profound realization that death is actually the way one looks at life—death is not just an end, but also a beginning.

Weaving together thought-provoking parables, anecdotes from the author's past, and poignant Judaic teachings, Touching the World of Angels is a moving, raw story of one man's spiritual journey to make sense of his loss and to find the courage to gain a richer understanding of the world beyond this one.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780757391835
Publisher:	Health Communications, Incorporated
Publication date:	02/09/2011
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	168
File size:	334 KB

About the Author

Born in Newburgh, New York, Seth Clyman moved to Israel with his family at the age of fourteen. He is a proud father of eight and grandfather of more. Seth is a community builder who has coordinated multimilliondollar expansion projects for educational institutions in Jerusalem. He is an active member of his community of Neve Yaakov, scene of the events that take place in Touching the World of Angels. He was an originator of the Neighborhood Development Committee, which meets with municipal representatives to implement projects vital to community needs. He is also a gabbai (in-house coordinator) for his synagogue. Following the crib death of his daughter, Seth was occasionally asked to speak with other parents who had experienced similar loss. He eventually decided to put his thoughts and insights on paper to help bereaved parents channel their pain and find new sources of strength. After five years, his first book was born. Seth lives with his wife Ellen in Jerusalem. Visit him at www.touchingtheworldofangels.com.

Read an Excerpt

Preface

Losing a baby is like getting hit with a knockout punch and not knowing where it came from. When you come to, everything is hazy. Out of the fog, you slowly come back to yourself.

In the years following my baby's passing, life and death took on different shades. My life—and my baby's, as short as it was—took on new meaning.

When someone goes to sleep, you expect him to wake up, especially if that someone is a baby. Babies wake up with big smiles, or crying to be fed, or just wanting to be taken out of the crib. But they wake up. When your baby doesn't, your life changes. It has to.

I suddenly found myself, against my will, among the ranks of the devastated. I want to share with you the challenges that I faced as I was initiated into this select club. I was floored, and that is exactly where I found myself sitting during the seven days of shiva.

I felt those seven days paralleled the seven days of Creation, where the first day, the 'beginning,' was 'void and desolate,' but by the seventh, a whole world had been created out of nothing. Each day of Creation ends with the words, 'It was evening and it was morning.' In biblical terms, the day starts at nightfall, with darkness and confusion, and moves toward light, toward understanding and clarity. I felt this image was a metaphor for my grief, and I have made use of it in this book.

When crib death showed up on our doorstep, it brought void and desolation. Yet it catalyzed a dimensional shift in my life. I want to share with you this week, which launched a journey I couldn't have begun on my own.

The End

No one else was at the cemetery as the sun started to set. Just the driver and a man holding a small bundle. They approached the hole that had been dug within the last hour. The freshly turned ground was mixed with rocks. The bundle was placed carefully in the hole and immediately covered with earth and left unmarked.

If only we could understand the impact this bundle would have on us and those around us. If only we could fathom its power. The power of creation. The power of eternity.

At the same time, not so far away, someone is crying, and the power is overwhelming—if only we could harness it.

The tears keep coming. It's hitting hard. Channel the impact, and come out alive.

The Beginning

1:43 pm—paramedics receive call about baby in distress.

1:44 pm—ambulance leaves station with full team.

1:54 pm—ambulance arrives on scene.

'We've been looking for you,' the office manager said. 'You have a call. You can pick it up privately in my office.'

'Hello?' I said into the receiver.

I recognized my neighbor's voice at the other end. 'You should come home right away,' she said with forced calmness. 'Your baby isn't well. Please don't ask any questions, just come home as soon as you can.'

'Okay. But what . . . '

'Don't ask,' she cut me off. 'Just come home.' She hung up.

I called home. No answer. Not a good sign.

I tried the upstairs neighbor to get more information. A child picked up the phone and told me her mother was down the street. An ambulance siren in the background was all I needed to hear. Numb but composed, I turned and walked through the office. Everyone knew something was very wrong.

2:09 pm—ambulance rushes baby to hospital, siren blaring.

I jumped into a cab. The twenty-minute ride home seemed like forever. I sat there next to the driver, deep

in thought. My wife, the kids, the baby. . . . But I remember two things distinctly.

The first was a miniature black and yellow soccer ball dangling from the rearview mirror. Week after week this sphere has millions of people around the world jumping and screaming when it makes its way into a twenty-four-by-eight-foot net. I thought it was funny that this ball, the cause of all the excitement, was dangling at the end of a string. Just hanging there . . . right in front of my eyes.

The second thing I recall was the wailing of the siren as an ambulance whizzed past us in the opposite direction as we approached my neighborhood. I knew Ellen and the baby were in there, but in the time it would take us to turn around, we would lose sight of them. The ambulance was going so fast . . . and to which hospital? I felt so helpless. Now I wasn't sure who was dangling from a string—the baby, the ball, or me. I let the driver in on what was happening. We were just a few minutes from home.

2:16 pm—ambulance arrives at hospital

As we pulled into my street, it seemed too quiet for the middle of the day, especially for a cul-de-sac where more than four hundred children live. Two women were waiting outside my house. 'Just turn around and go to Hadassah Hospital,' they said.

What People are Saying About This

Jeffrey Zaslow

"The seven days described in these pages are achingly personal yet profoundly meaningful for the rest of us. In Seth Clyman's story we can see our own fears, our own losses, and our own paths to understanding."

—Jeffrey Zaslow, coauthor The Last Lecture

Editorial Reviews

As a grieving family sits shiva following the death of their 2-month-old baby girl, father Clyman experiences intense emotions through his friends, family, and rabbi. It's hard to imagine how anything positive could emerge from such a profound loss, but as Clyman is reminded, that is in fact the purpose of shiva, a Jewish ritual wherein seven days are set aside for unrestrained grieving and soul-searching. The author shares some of what helped him to work through the experience, such as stories of children's near-death experiences and parables. Sitting shiva he didn't become less sad, but rather learned more about his spiritual beliefs by being forced to examine them at length. Clyman also gained clarity and appreciation for the gift of life, as well as a renewed faith in the divine. He opens the book with his dream of being eaten by a shark, and closes with an admonition in parable form: listen to the whispers of God, or He might just throw a brick at you. This chronicle of one father's growth through sorrow is a moving tribute.
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