It's just a shame that God didn't give us the blessing of fertility and we didn't have children. On second thought, maybe it's good that we don't have children in view of the horrific events that will happen to us now.
Yehoshua, do everything to save yourself. You are smart and resourceful. Maybe you will be saved. My soul will watch over you wherever I am.
Goodbye my love, Please forgive me.
Yehoshua sinks again into a wave of renewed weeping and his whole body trembles. A long time later, when he has calmed down, he returns to their bedroom, covers his wife's body with more blankets he finds in the closet and leaves their room, wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve. He goes to the kitchen and in the dark rummages in one of the remote drawers. He finds several candles and he lights them while sticking them, with meltedmilk, on the counter. The kitchen is lit by the flickering candlelight. Then, without looking back, he climbs the two stories to the roof and from there, after turning on the engine with a deafening noise and finishing tightening his harness and checking that the parachute is properly deployed on the railing and the filthy roof, he leaps into the gaping abyss and within seconds finds himself sitting and swinging again between heaven and earth among his neighborhood buildings, on his way back to the starting point, to his family and his daughters waiting for him in Herzliya.
From the air, he sees from afar all the tall and dark houses of the neighborhood where he lives. Only one small sliver of light shines through his kitchen window on the seventh floor and he tries to remember and mutter with dry eyes the exact words of the Kaddish, suspended between heaven and earth.