“Thank you Devorah,” Chana said when she finished. “If you wouldn’t mind could you take a few of just me and Michaela?”
“Of course,” Devorah smiled as Chana rearranged herself and the baby.
“Make sure you get her hair,” Chana said. “I want her to know how much I adored her hair.”
Uri noticed an urgency in Chana’s actions. He wondered if it was her sheer exhaustion or if there was something she was keeping from him.
After Avi and Devorah left the room, Chana unwrapped Michaela and attempted to latch her onto her breast.
“They make this look a lot easier in the movies,” she said.
“If it’s too hard we can always try formula,” Uri suggested.
“No, I want her to get as much milk from her Imma while she can,” Chana responded harshly.
Uri sat beside her and watched as Michaela finally latched on and Chana breathed a sigh of relief.
“Chana, I feel like there’s something you’re keeping from me. I know something is bothering you. Can you tell me, please?”
Chana didn’t respond. Ignoring Ur’s question, she gently stroked her daughter’s head.
“Chana?” Uri gently pressed her to answer.
“I just love her so much. If things could stay this way forever, just the three of us like this, in this room, I would be so happy,” Chana confessed.
“Chana, where is this coming from? We have so much to look forward to—watching her grow and walk and talk. She’ll learn Torah. We have our entire life as a family ahead of us.” Uri spoke calmly to lessen whatever worry that burdened his wife.
Chana remained quiet and continued to stroke Michaela’s hair and cheeks. Uri noticed a tear from Chana’s eye fall onto the baby’s head.
“Chana, what is it? You need to tell me. Whatever you are feeling I am sure it’s a normal reaction after giving birth.”
Again, Uri received no response. They sat in silence. More of Chana’s tears fell onto their baby.
“I had a dream last night, Uri.” Chana continued to look only at Michaela to avoid eye contact with her husband.
“Ok, do you want to tell me about it?”
Chana sobbed hysterically. Uri handed her more Kleenex.
“My Chana, favored with grace, will you please look at me?” he asked gently.
Chana wiped her eyes and slowly made eye contact with him.
“Now please tell me about your dream,” he pleaded tenderly.
Chana took a deep breath before she spoke. “I dreamt that I saw Amira. She looked beautiful. She wasn’t sick anymore and she was wearing the tiara that I gave her.”
“That must have been comforting,” Uri replied, but still confused.
“Then I told Amira about Michaela, and Michaela suddenly appeared in my arms. I knelt so Amira could peek at her. But when I opened the blanket, Michaela was gone. I panicked and I asked Amira to help me look for her. But Amira just stood there. I asked her why she wouldn’t help me.”
Chana stopped talking and looked down again at Michaela.
“What did she say, Chana? What did Amira say?” Uri asked.
Chana stared into his eyes.
“I don’t want to tell you,” she said.
A sickening feeling entered Uri’s gut. He remembered how accurately Chana predicted that their baby would be a girl after she had a dream. She spoke with the same certainty now as she did then.
“You need to tell me, Chana. You’ll feel better if you tell me. . .okay?”
Chana sighed and nodded.
“Amira said that Michaela was with you, but that I needed to stay with her. . .Amira. I could hear Michaela crying and I tried to get to her, but Amira grabbed my hand. She told me not to be scared. She told me that you and the baby would be okay. And then this light came over us and Michaela stopped crying. I looked at Amira and she started to pray the Viddui in Hebrew. Then I woke up.”
Uri sat quietly for a moment, unable to make sense of his wife’s dream.
“Chana, it was just a dream. You have been through the greatest trauma in your life and the greatest joy, all within 24 hours. It’s normal to have dreams that would reflect your fears,” he said, trying his best to reassure her. Yet deep in his soul, his wife’s dream terrified him.
“You think so?” Chana sounded doubtful.
“I am certain of it,” he said in his most gentle, reassuring voice.
“Uri?”
“Yes, Chana?”
“Please don’t leave me today. Will stay here with me, and the baby?”
“Of course, I will, Chana. Of course, I will.”
He kissed the top of his daughter’s head and then lightly kissed Chana’s forehead, not caring if he broke any religious rules.
“I love you Uri Geller. You and this baby are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I love you more, Chana Geller, full of grace.”
45
Chana dozed off again. When she opened her eyes Gavriel was in the room and Uri was holding Michaela.
“Hi Gavriel,” she said, genuinely glad to see him.
“Chana, Mazel Tov! My niece is beautiful. And I must say that she gets her good looks from you.”
“I won’t argue with that. Michaela is one hundred percent her Imma,” Uri smiled.
“Where’s Noa?” Chana asked.
Gavriel cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“She is outside in the hallway. We weren’t sure if you’d want to see her after—"
“Of course, I want to see her,” Chana interrupted. “And Noa needs to meet her niece.”
“Okay,” said Gavriel optimistically. “I am glad to hear that. Let me go get her.”
Gavriel returned a minute later with Noa at his side.
“Noa,” Chana said warmly. “Come meet your niece. Uri, can you hand Michaela to her aunt?”
“Are you sure?” Noa replied with apprehension.
“Of course! You are her only Jewish aunt. And you will have a lot of things to teach her.”
Uri grew alarmed that Chana was still speaking as if she believed her dream, but he knew now was not the appropriate time to talk about it.
Noa lit up when Uri handed her the baby. Chana didn’t know Noa could look so happy. She cooed and spoke Yiddish to her niece, remarking on her beautiful dark hair.
“Chana, would it be okay if I spoke to you privately? Just for a couple of moments?” Noa looked at Gavriel and Uri, cueing them to leave the room.
Uri glanced at Chana who nodded at him in approval.
“We’ll go get some coffee,” Uri said as he and his brother departed from the room.
"May I?" Noa motioned to the chair beside the bed.
"Of course, sit down."
"Chana, I want to apologize for how terribly I treated you the last time you were at my house," Noa began.
"Noa, it's ok—"
"Please, Chana let me explain."
"I'm sorry, go ahead," Chana nodded.
"You see, the last time I saw you on Shabbat I knew you were pregnant. I could tell the moment I saw you. You were glowing. And I could see a tiny pouch at the top of your skirt. I was so jealous of you. I was so angry,” she sighed. “Gavriel and I have been trying for over three years now. I’ve had five miscarriages.”
“Oh Noa, I am so sorry, I had no idea!”
“Only my mother knows. And Gavriel, of course. We are looking into other options now. But my sorrow and personal problems were no excuse to treat you like I did. What you said when you left was true. I acted dishonorably towards you. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Of course, I forgive you, Noa.” Chana reached for Noa’s hand. “And I am so sorry about the loss of your babies. I know you will be an Imma one day. You will be a wonderful Imma. HaShem will reward you.”
“You think so?” Noa asked as she grew teary eyed.
“I am sure of it,” Chana replied as she squeezed Noa’s hand.
“Noa, I need to ask you somethin
g.”
“Of course, what is it?” Noa replied as she looked adoringly at Michaela
“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll make sure that Michaela knows how to be a proud Jewish woman. Make sure she is confident and strong.”
Noa looked at Chana confused. It seemed that she was predicting something.
“Chana, is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m just hormonal. But please say you’ll keep that promise.”
Noa squeezed Chana’s hand. “Of course, I promise. I will treat her like a daughter.”
“Thank you,” Chana wiped her eyes with Kleenex and handed one to Noa. They looked at one another and laughed.
“We’re a mess!” Noa said.
“A good mess, though. Baruch HaShem,” Chana replied.
“Baruch HaShem,” Noa repeated. Together, they admired the miracle before them.
AFTER A VISIT FROM Lavie and Penina, Devorah and Avi returned to the room. Devorah immediately scooped up Michaela and sang her some more Yiddish love songs.
“Avi, can I ask you something?” Chana said as Avi settled into one of the uncomfortable hospital rooms chairs.
“How long do you think my dad will live with his new heart and lungs?”
Avi looked at an exhausted Uri who tried his best to stay awake. Chana’s question seemed to jar him into alertness.
“Well, my dear, he’s passed the hardest part for now. His body hasn’t rejected the new organs.”
“But on average, how many more years does a person live after a transplant like his?” Chana asked impatiently.
Avi looked at Uri and Devorah before answering.
“On average, I would say between four and seven good years,” he finally answered.
“Uri let’s call my parents,” Chana said.
“Now? It’s really early in the States,” Uri replied.
“They won’t care. I want to talk to my dad again.”
Devorah handed Michaela back to Chana as she and Avi wished the trio goodnight.
After they left, Chana handed the baby to Uri and dialed her house number in South Dakota. They had already spoken the day before, but Chana felt an urgency to talk to them again.
Her mother picked up. Chana shared with her how well Michaela was nursing and promised her that Devorah would email her pictures.
“I’m so proud of you Chana,” her mother said through her tears. “I wish so badly that I could be there. Leah sends her love.”
“I love you, Mom.” Chana said.
“I love you, too sweetie. Let me get your dad on.”
Chana spoke much longer to her father, explaining again that Michaela was named in his honor.
“I am a lucky grandpa, Punkin,” he said. “We have to think of a good nickname for her.”
“How about Mickey?” Chana suggested. “You’ve always been a big Mickey Mantle fan.”
“Mickey. I like it. Punkin and Mickey, what a pair.”
“I can’t wait for you to see her, Dad.”
“Neither can I. Now you get some rest. You sound exhausted.”
“Okay, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you too, Punkin. Tell Mickey that I love her, too.” Chana smiled. “I will. Bye Daddy.”
As she hung up the call, she looked at Uri who was sleeping soundly with Michaela in his arms.
“Uri,” she whispered loudly to him.
He opened his eyes seemingly unaware that he had fallen asleep.
“We’re going to call Michaela “Mickey,” okay?”
“We are? Ok, whatever you want, Chana,” he said, still half asleep.
“Hand her to me and go sleep on the couch,” she ordered him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you’re exhausted.”
“Ok,” he kissed Mickey’s head and handed her to his wife.
Uri walked across the room to the small, uncomfortable couch in the corner and immediately fell back asleep.
Chana fed Mickey again. Latching on was no longer a struggle.
As she caressed Mickey’s tiny feet and relished in the size of her fingernails, Mickey unlatched herself and opened her eyes. She seemed to be looking straight at Chana.
“Hello, my sweet girl, I’m your Imma. I love you and your Abba so much. You’re going to have such a beautiful life. I promise you.”
Chana stroked Mickey’s cheeks as they continued to stare into each other's eyes.
“Can I sing to you, baby girl? I’m not particularly good at Yiddish songs, but my Abba always sang “American Pie” to me. Do you want to hear it?”
Mickey’s eyes stayed open as Chana sang all six verses of the song to her. When she sang the last course, Mickey finally closed her eyes. Her petite lips curl into a smile. Knowing it was likely just a reflex, Chana still reveled in it. “You smile like your Abba, my sweet girl.”
She stared at Mickey’s fast-moving belly as she breathed her newborn breaths. She looked at Uri, peacefully sleeping across the room and noticed his strong body, his beautiful hair, his kind eyes. She closed her eyes and the image of him looking at her at the football game years ago entered her mind again. That’s when she first noticed the kindness in his eyes.
A strange sensation fell over her. She closed her eyes for a while. She opened them and looked towards the couch. Light radiated from Uri. Beams of light illuminated the entire room.
“Uri, wake up,” she said. But something wasn’t right. She couldn’t speak.
“Uri!” Again, she could only hear his name in her mind. Her lips and mouth felt numb, as if a dentist overdosed her with Novocain.
She looked at Mickey and realized she couldn’t feel the weight of her daughter on her chest.
Stars. Chana thought of stars. Dead stars that lit the Israeli night sky outside of her hospital window. Even in death there was always light.
“Uri please wake up!”
Something was terribly wrong in her brain.
A nurse. A nurse. I need to get a nurse, she thought.
She reached for the call button on her bed. She could see her arm move, but she couldn’t feel it. The call light seemed to move farther and farther away. Her hand left a strange trace in the air as she moved it, as if tiny atoms were shedding from her body. Finally, her finger reached the red button. She couldn’t feel it when she pressed it, but she saw the red light turn on.
The light in the room became more brilliant.
“Uri, you need to wake up, you’re missing it!” Chana screamed inside her brain.
A silhouette entered the room. The silhouette turned into Uri in the painted Art Alley in South Dakota years ago. The light was more dazzling in the alley. Chana felt so warm. Uri kept her warm. Shooting stars fell all around them. She moved to touch Uri’s face, but she couldn’t; her hand went right through him.
That’s when Chana realized she was dying. Uri read the Hebrew writing on the alley wall that said, “Uri loves Hannah,” and Chana started to cry.
“I’m so sorry, Uri,” she said. The words of Tehillim 36 repeated through her mind: “For the source of life is in You; in Your light do we see light. . .”
Uri’s image began to fade away. At the end of the alleyway stood Amira.
“No, Chana. Don’t do it. Don’t say it!” Uri begged her. He wailed in angst, like a wounded animal. “Please don’t say it, Chana!”
But it was too late. Despite Uri’s sobbing, words of the Viddui and Shema flowed from her mouth.
“Protect my dear ones, with whose souls my soul is bound. Shema Yisrael. . .”
FOUR DAYS LATER, URI crawled into the hospital bed beside his wife. Devorah laid Mickey in his arms. The doctor took Chana off the ventilator nearly five minutes earlier, but she was still breathing irregularly. Sometimes minutes passed between each breath.
Avi stood in the corner of the room quietly reciting Tehillim. Uri gently turned Mickey onto her tummy, so she could lay stomach to stomach, skin to skin with her Imma one last time.
Ten more minutes passed. Mickey slept peacefully. Devorah sat stoically as she held a cell phone in her hand next to Chana’s ear. Chana’s parents spoke loudly through the line over their tears.
“We love you, Hannah, I love you Punkin,” they kept saying repeatedly.
The room grew silent, as if an angel entered and brought with her a hushed silence. Avi stopped reciting Tehillim. Chana’s parents stopped talking. Mickey continued to sleep peacefully, her tiny breaths rising and lowering on her Imma’s body.
Uri waited for Chana to take another breath. Thirty seconds passed, then one minute. Finally, Chana’s rib cage moved as she inhaled one last time. She exhaled with a soft crackle and the noise stopped.
Immediately Mickey began to cry, as if her tiny self knew that the body that gave her life was no more. Over the crying infant came an enormous wail. Devorah picked up the baby as Uri clung to his wife, screaming in grief.
The sound of Uri Geller sobbing echoed throughout the hospital hallway.
It was the tolling of a bell—the sound of a grim announcement: Chana Rose Geller, wife of Uri Asher Geller and mother of Michaela Ruth Geller, was dead.
Part III
South Dakota & Pennsylvania: 2001-2019
"I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, that he may hear me.
In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; my hand is stretched out in the night and does not rest; my soul refuses to be comforted.
I remember God, and I moan; I meditate and my spirit faints. Selah.
You hold my eyelids from closing; I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old, the years of ancient times.
I remember my melody in the night; I talk with my heart; and my spirit searches."
-Psalm (Tehillim) 77
46
The official cause of Chana Geller's death was a cerebrovascular accident, medical terminology for a massive stroke.
Her concussion from the explosion, coupled with the extra blood volume in her body caused a blockage in an artery, preventing vital oxygen and glucose to travel to her brain.
Uri Full of Light Page 23