I promised her I would do it as I placed a small stone on her grave in a deep night when the darkness looked darker than usual.
I promised her as I whispered her name, “I will write your story and give you a voice.” Although I didn’t know her long, the little time we had spent together was very intense.
Four months before I received a phone call from a rabbi and my acquaintance in London asking if my husband and I would be kind enough to go meet and greet this couple from England, who had just lost their daughter and came to Israel for the burial.
Even though the parents are from Argentina and they were living in London, they wanted their daughter to be buried in Jerusalem. It was not the first time we got such a call since we lost our own daughter a few years ago. We know what to say, what parents feel more or less, and that eventually there is a light somewhere at the end of a long tunnel.
It’s a hard task but we believe we owe it in our daughter’s name, and for the strength and the love God has bestowed upon us – before, during and after the tragedy we went through with our angel. The eternal light she left in our hearts and lives has made us stronger and showed us a path to a new way of living for us as parents: sharing our pain and love with other bereaved parents who might need our help. We help them and they help us. It always works both ways; strengthening others makes us stronger.
WHEN I met Mia’s parents they seemed calm and in control of their emotions – so pleasant and sweet. The father offered me a real espresso after I told him I am from Italy, and the mother sat next to him, a small lady, her thick hair in a ponytail. They looked frail.
I didn’t know exactly their story then; they had just told us that they lost their girl at the tender age of 14. Ouch, it hurts, I asked no more questions.
As we sat in this very cozy apartment not far from where we live, I felt the need to scratch the surface of their soul; their faces, as much as they tried to be nice, polite and “normal,” looked dim and aching. I know those eyes. It pained me to see them trying to contain their tears. The more we spoke the more I understood that their suffering must be very deep. The more they tried to hide it, the more their sadness was coming to light.
The father told us that he had gone to the Kotel on Friday, escorted by another couple of bereaved parents who happen to be good friends of ours, who had been incredibly supportive and had spent a lot of time talking and crying with them, and as they walked into the Old City they saw a silver fox.
The rabbi and our good friend told them that to see a silver fox wandering freely in the Old City is one of the signs that Moshiach is coming and just needs to be revealed.
The father, who explained to us that he is not a religious Jew, smiled and started tearing up. He looked at me and said again, “Moshiach is coming...”
Yes, answered my husband and I with our hearts in our hands; no more suffering.
As we talk, I spot a picture of a beautiful girl on one of the shelves. I get up and take it in my hands, I turn to the mother.
“May I?”
“That’s Mia,” she smiled with pride.
She looks like a jewel, with straight brown hair, a fringe and big green eyes.
What happened, I wondered in silence.
“Suicide.”
I FEEL like I have been punched in the face. I feel tears ready to explode through my eyes; I feel my stomach turning, sweat on my back. I feel faint.
I grab a chair and sit down. I’m still holding her image in my hands. I thought I was strong and brave, but I was crumbling like a child.
The pain I felt was doubled for them, because I lost a child and fought with all my energy for her to survive and saw her fighting for her life until her illness prevailed. In this case, this lovely girl named Mia decided to put an end to her suffering on her own. Her will to die was stronger than her will to live.
“How much pain were you hiding, my dear Mia?” I wonder to myself. “You were surrounded with love by your parents, you were their only child, they described you as an angel who just wanted to love and help others, sweet and fine like a beautiful butterfly.”
Losing a child for a parent is a disaster, for it goes against nature. To bury parents is hard but it is the way of life, yet we will never get over burying a child – but losing a child who takes over their own life is unbearable, it goes against all laws of nature. A 14-year-old girl needs to think of homework, trips and luna-park outings, fun, burgers and french fries, first crushes and mascara smudged while learning how to use it.
Not of death.
They say you were bullied. You were too pure to fight back, too special to hate so much, to seek revenge, you kept it all inside. You didn’t want your adoring parents to worry. You didn’t want anyone to worry.
I don’t ask for more details. I can’t.
Later we make our way to the burial place of Mia on the Mount of Olives. The parents are crouched on the ground crying her name. This loss is devastating. They miss her so much. I hold my tears as I watch them in silence, there is so much pain all around me and there is nothing I can say right now.
Once back in England, Mia’s mother started sending me articles on the school that Mia had gone to. There had been already three cases of suicides in the last four years. That’s crazy. A gang of monsters was going around blackmailing, bullying and terrifying young girls, driving them crazy with fake stories and fake pictures on them.
One of them was Mia.
The whole story had now been handed over to the police and the headmaster had been replaced. “This is insane!” I shout to my husband. “This is what is happening in a Jewish school in London?”
Mia did not kill herself, Mia was basically pushed to kill herself. She was bullied.
My dear Mia, your fate will not remain in silence. I promised myself to give you a voice through my words and to help raise awareness amongst parents and teenagers. This cannot happen in a civilized world, in a Jewish school to a beautiful Jewish girl like you.
Things will have to change now. Even though it is too late for you, no one else should have to suffer. Your name now will bring the light of judgment and truth upon others forever.
I PROMISED Mia’s mother I would write the story of her daughter for all to know, as much as can be shared.
Her story needs to be the red line, the wake-up call, the never-again image for all those families with teenagers who are struggling and hurting. Maybe they are being bullied in school, maybe they are being blackmailed or forced to do things they don’t want to do. This is a cry for all those parents who cannot figure out what their children are going through and for all those teachers who see and keep quiet.
The whole educational body of that school in London might have known something but did not say, might have seen but did not report. They chose to stay silent, chose to let go instead of defending the weaker ones. You should be ashamed of yourselves. You have a child’s life on your shoulders to pray for the rest of your miserable lives. And for those gangs in school whose only reason to live is to make others miserable and drive them to death, my words are wasted on you, but the truth always comes out. Your days of regret are only at the beginning.
These words are for you dear Marisa, sweet mother of Mia, and this stone I set now is on your grave. Your pain was probably too deep, your heart couldn’t take it anymore. They said you were ill, I believe you were tired of crying, exhausted from the pain.
As I look down at the two graves of mother and daughter, one next to the other, I feel betrayed by the system. This is not how it’s meant to be, yet I see them united now in heaven. No more suffering.
The father is left to pray on the grave.
It is a tragic story, but there must be a silver lining too, I think as I walk back to the parking lot. Mia and her mum were two pure souls, their story will be known and the fate of many others will be spared.
You are not alone my friends, Mia, the angel who sacrificed herself now will be screaming loud and clear for those of you who are fighting a difficult war.
Do not give up.
Parents, look out for signs in your children’s behaviors if you have any doubt there is a serious problem in your child’s environment, whether it’s in school, among friends, Sunday groups, camp...
Be close to your children. Talk to them, love them, communicate, fight. It’s a tough war they are facing and they might be embarrassed to share things with you. For the love of this beautiful girl and her beautiful mother, every life saved is a light that shines in their memory.
May their souls continue to ascend high in the heavens and pray for all of us.
In memory of Mia Rachel z”l and Marisa z”l.
The writer is from Italy, lives in Jerusalem and heads HadassahChen Productions. A director and performer, she also heads the Keren Navah Ruth Foundation, in memory of her daughter, to assist families with sick children. hjm74@hotmail.com