Leah and Yosef Yaish emigrated from Yemen to Israel between the years 1942-1944. They arrived to the Pardes Hanna immigrant camp, and shortly after moved to a house at 12 Rambam Street in Pardes Hanna, where they lived all their lives. In Israel they had three children—Mazal, Moshe, and Michael. On January 7, 1951, Malka and Menahem were born. They were delivered at home (a copy of the birth certificate is attached). Around the age of one Menahem contracted polio. In July 1952, when he was a year and a half old, he did not feel well and was taken to Rambam Hospital in Haifa.

Two days later the parents were notified that he was feeling better, and were asked to come and take him home. When my grandfather arrived at the hospital he was told the child was dead. My grandfather, who was a religious man, wanted to bury his son, but was told he had already been buried. He returned home and told his wife that their child was dead. Because he never saw a body and did not bury him, they never sat shiva. My grandmother lived with a perpetual feeling that he was alive. Even Menahem’s twin sister felt that her brother was alive.

After Menahem’s death, Shula, Dalia, Nurit, Sari and Yochai were born. A few years ago, Menahem’s twin sister Malka searched for him and received a brief report from the Ministry of Interior with many details missing, such as the date of his death, his mother’s name, the child’s sex, or his cause of death. My aunt continued to search at every cemetery possible but found no evidence of an actual grave.

My grandparents were bereaved of 2 children: Mazal who drowned in a pool at the age of eight, and Michael who was killed during the Six-Day War. They dearly mourned over the children they lost, but they could barely speak about Menahem—the pain was too much to bear. Only to her little granddaughter did my grandmother reveal the fact that she had a little boy named Menachem and that he was alive somewhere.

I am Keren, Leah Yaish’s granddaughter, and I want to share her story as she told it to me.