On the third of March 2002, Steven Kenigsberg Z"L, lost his life in an act of terror. This post is written in his honour.
I remember it as if it was yesterday. Sitting in my friend's lounge as his mother was in hysterics, crying about the boy she had just seen on the news. Maybe it was a mistake, they had said in the report that he was 27; maybe crossed wires had led to the misinformation. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
I had heard a lot about Steven in the 8 or so months I had been in Israel, I had never met him but everyone seemed to speak about him with pride in the fact that they knew him. I walked home that day thinking to myself "Wow it's so strange how different it feels when a terrorist attack hits close to home." I was about to find out just how close to home it would hit.
I walked in to my apartment at the Raanana Absorption Center, said hello to my mother and mentioned that someone that everyone knew was murdered the night before. She asked me his name and as I told her, she looked at me and said what still haunts me to this day; "Steven Kenigsberg was your cousin."
At a loss for words, I walked out of the house, I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to say. This hero that everyone else knew and loved was my own relative and he had been taken away before I ever got the privilege of meeting him.
Years passed and Steven would enter my mind every so often. I was so angry with the world, so angry with myself. Why had I never met him? Who had fought with whom in the family to prevent us from knowing each other? What if he was that one guy at the party I never said hello to? Or that South African in the restaurant or at the bus stop, who I listened to intently but did not wish to make conversation with? How many opportunities did I potentially have to meet Steven that I threw away?
Yet through all of that time, I felt so selfish, here I was thinking about Steven when I didn't even know him and yet the people who had known him, they had a right to feel loss, they had the right to mourn him.
I did however learn a very important lesson, the loss of Steven, was everybody's loss, whether you knew him, or whether you had never or would never have met Steven, he was Israel's and the world's loss. From then on, every soldier who fell in battle, was a family member, every civilian killed in terrorist acts, they too were family members. And yet Steven's image, his smile haunted me.
Several weeks ago, I stumbled upon a group on a popular website, set up in honour of Steven. I decided to write in saying how I had heard such great things about him and how I had only found out he was my relation after the tragedy. His brother, another unknown cousin, was the moderator of this group and he immediately messaged me to find out how we were related. After several messaging sessions, he invited me to Steven's hazkara.
Last Friday morning, I made my way to Hod Hasharon, met Marc, my newly found cousin and off we went to the cemetery. I stood at Steven's hazkara, fighting back tears constantly, wanting to break down and just release all of the emotion that had been built up within me since that night 5 years ago. I listened to Steven's family speak about him, in honour of him and with tears rolling down my face, I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have known my cousin, the hero. And I sit here now, with tears rolling down my face and Steven's smile, it still haunts me.
After the ceremony, I went to the Kenigsberg's house, I spoke with Marc about Steven and how I felt that I almost had no right to mourn him since I didn't even know him and my mourning would be incomparable to Marc's or to the rest of Steven's family. He countered by saying that everyone mourns Steven in their own way, regardless of how they knew him. We also spoke about life, quantum physics and plans to perhaps go to the same college. I met Steven's Step-Mom and brothers and sisters, I spoke to Steven's dad. I finally felt, even if it was in a very small way, that I had gotten to know him just a little bit.
Steven may be gone from us physically, but he lives in his family and in his friends every single day. My cousin, a true hero, who fell in a cowardly act of terrorism, someone I never met, but a person I will never forget.
On Friday the 9th of March, I finally got to say goodbye to my cousin Steven. I only hope, that one day, I will be able to say hello to him.
Rest in Peace Steven Kenigsberg Z”L, my cousin, my hero, may your smile haunt me for years to come.
