Of all the facets of my identity, “writer” is my favorite one. I started writing when I was 14 years old, shortly after my older brother died at age 19. I wrote poems that captured my grief and sorrow. Within a few seconds of writing a poem, I expressed my deepest feelings. The relief, this outlet, allowed me to experience my brother’s loss and then “hop back” to my current daily reality.

Actually, I began writing at age 11, with letters to friends who lived outside the Old City in Jerusalem where I grew up. By the time I was in high school and traveled with a youth group, I had made many friends who didn’t live near me, and I would write about three letters every night. My father, Simcha Bar-Menachem z”l  (may his memory be a blessing) always prided himself on being my personal mail man.

With time, I realized that writing played an essential part in who I was, so I began pouring myself into it. In addition to poetry and letters, I kept a notebook under my pillow and would write every morning as soon as I woke up. Later, after my army service, I would spend every Thursday evening writing – either at my favorite café or seated under a lamppost in the middle of a busy intersection, or at the top of the Old City’s wall. I also took my notebook everywhere and would write on the bus or in waiting rooms – or while hiking and traveling. Sometimes, it was first thing in the morning; other times, it was late at night – even after midnight  – or anytime in between.

I wrote about my impressions, memories, thoughts, emotions, doubts and questions. It is no wonder that I even brought my notebook to therapy sessions when I was finally ready to deal with my grief and shed my brother’s shadow to discover who Dina is without him. I would write during and right after my sessions and, of........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)