My father came back and I told him “Rabin was shot” and we finished eating listening the radio for another half an hour before we realize that was something big and that we need to head home and watch the news more closely. Somehow the project I was working on still looked important to me more then the death of a leader. But slowly as the hours went by and the same news, the same images from the entrance to the hospital or to the later to be rename Rabin square, it started to sink in.
The next day, not knowing if there was school or not, I went, most of the students were there, most of which, alone in a strange and new city which they felt very alone in. The teacher decided on organizing a one day project for all the classes, they let everyone do a personal work about what happened. I made a comix strip about that moment, about doing that project with the big red splash of paint when hearing the news.
That exhibition and the death of a priminister got the class pretty tight together, sharing a confused and sad experience made me get to know the people I was in school with, got me to see them cry or laugh cynically and confront grief and fears. It was all so different then just a couple of weeks ago, being in the army and feeling all dead on the inside suffocated with mediocrity and boredom, here people actually thought, created made an effort to be unique, expressive, individual - I was afraid of the teachers and scared to mess up, but for the first time in a long while I felt I found a situation I can grow in, evolve, the end of a life of a leader still signify new beginning for me.