We met when we shared an apartment at 13 Metudela Street in Jerusalem. Some of our other friends lived in the same building, and from time to time, we would all go out together to eat or spend time. We lived together for two years, during which we became close friends – a true friendship that lasted from those days until the day she passed away.
I remember vividly the day she met Avi, her husband. Avi served with me at the same army base, and one day he came to visit me. Our whole group went out for falafel at the legendary shop on Bezalel Street, and it was there that I noticed the immediate connection between them. Even though they were so different – she a young immigrant from America and he a young Jerusalemite – their conversation flowed from the very first moment. There was something about it that was simply right.
Gail was a one-of-a-kind woman, the kind that is rare to find. She was always looking to help and gave of herself without limits. I remember that five women with disabilities, confined to wheelchairs, lived in her building. Gail would visit them every day, accompany them to the doctor, do their shopping, or run errands. She always spoke to them at eye level; to them, she wasn’t a “volunteer,” she was a true friend who didn’t see their limitations at all.
Another thing that connected us was our shared love for creativity and art. Gail specialized in the art of quilting, and it seemed that her connection to this field complemented her personality and expressed the richness of her soul – joining pieces of beauty into a single whole.
Throughout all those years, we remained close. Even when we didn’t meet in person, the phone was our lifeline and we talked about everything. Only two years ago, we went on vacation together to Paphos, Cyprus, and recently we celebrated Independence Day together. Gail looked so beautiful and radiant there.
That is exactly how I will always remember her: radiant, creative, and full of love.