By Linda Bennett
SAN DIEGO — On July 31, 2002, when my daughter Marla was 24, she stood on the precipice of her adult life and looked forward to an exciting future. A young American living in Israel, she had recently returned to the homeland of our people, a journey she had dreamed of making since she was a child. Having recently graduated from University of California, Berkeley, she was pursuing a master’s degree in Judaic Studies in Jerusalem. As I was living in California, I hadn’t seen her in some time, but I knew I’d be seeing her soon: she had planned to return to the U.S. to meet her boyfriend’s parents, who were soon to become her in-laws.
She never made it home.
On that late-July day, a terrorist entered the cafeteria at the Hebrew University and detonated a bomb that murdered my child.
Nine people, including five university employees and four students from a variety of countries, were killed that day. About 100 others were injured. One hundred and nine different families just like mine found their lives forever changed due to the hate and anger that lay in the heart of a fundamentalist. One hundred and nine families just like mine received that gut-wrenching phone call. Nine other mothers like me heard those words a parent should never live to hear: “Your child is gone.”
I’m not going to name the terrorist who killed my daughter because this isn’t his story. This is Marla’s story, and it’s a story of love and light and hope and forgiveness. I can’t bring my daughter back, but I can keep her memory alive by sharing her life with others and allowing her fierce love for her family and her people to inspire others to live a life of joyful service to others, just like Marla did.
Marla was generous, kind, polite, and brilliant. A star student, she had been scouted by a variety of universities who knew that her sharp mind would be an asset to their community. A devoted Jew, she hoped to someday make Aliyah and dedicate her life to the Jewish people. She wanted to teach at a Jewish school and instill a love of Judaism in the next generation. As a child, she loved going to temple and participating in Jewish youth groups and summer camp. Twenty years later, I still think of her infectious smile that lit up her beautiful face and recall the warmth and joy she brought to those around her.
When a parent loses a child, the pain that ensues cannot be captured in words. The agony is beyond any physical suffering we could possibly experience on this earth. This pain is, of course, the point: terrorists take our children from us because they want to plunge us into cold, hopeless darkness so that we lose our faith and our belief in our nation. But this terrorist must not have known the Jewish people, and he certainly didn’t know my Marla: She is the flame that cannot be extinguished, the light that cannot be dimmed.
Terrorism, as we all know, has not ended. The hate that killed my daughter continues to fester and infect the hearts and minds of many. But in her life, my Marla yearned for peace. In her death, our community honors her legacy by continuing to spread that light. Try though we might, no single one of us can end the hate that killed my daughter. But if we live as Marla did—fast and joyful, bright and curious, motivated by a proud and unapologetic commitment to Judaism and Israel and our people’s future—we can do our small part of honor and continue her legacy.
In Israel and around the U.S., over 25 babies have been named after her, both male and female, to commemorate the young woman who gave everything for our homeland. Her close girlfriends have also named their children for her, so that the next generation may carry her memory through their lives. Her former summer camp, the Shalom Institute, created the Marla Bennett Israel Discovery Center and Garden that teaches young people about Judaism and the environment. She was awarded the Berkeley Hillel Award, Hineni, which is given to a student who, “whenever there was something that needed to be done, their response was ‘here I am.’”
This year marks 20 years since Marla lit up the world with her smile. Her story was told at this year’s Masa Israel Yom HaZikaron ceremony in Israel, where hundreds of thousands of people from around the world were able to learn more about her, and back home here in San Diego at our local shul. As hard as it is to live a day without her, I can’t help but feel her so fiercely in these moments, and in every moment that we recognize the gift that was her life.
This is my daughter’s legacy. Do not only remember her as she died: remember her as she lived. Wherever there is life and light in Israel; whenever a person chooses love and peace over hate and violence; wherever babies are born, new flowers bloom, the spark of imagination and curiosity flickers on in the mind of a child; there she is. There she will be.