The story of my grandparents' clock

I loved going to my grandparents when I was a small boy. Sometimes they would pick me up from kindergarten, and when we've moved farther away, I would at least see them once a week.

My grandfather had this old wall clock. He got it from some Arab village where someone stored it in a barn for years. The clock, a Junghans, is now more than 100 years old. And it has to be rewinded every few days. Whenever my grandfather knew that I was coming, he wouldn't rewind the clock because he knew I would want to do it. And so, this was my "job" for years and years growing up; I would come, and one of the first things I would do is rewind the clock.

The years have gone by; my grandfather, my beloved grandfather, had died. But the clock was still there, keeping my grandmother company for the rest of her life. And every single time I came to visit from Germany now, I would still rewind the clock.

One day, we spoke about the clock, and she said, "you know what, you love it so much - you should have it whenever I die." And I already knew I would take care of that clock, which reminded me so much of my grandfather, my grandmother, and their home. A few weeks later, I get a phone call from my grandma to Germany (and she would hardly call because it was expensive these days). She said, "Guy, I'm sorry. I cannot give you the clock. It has to go to your uncle, him being my son".

I understood, of course, but I couldn't say that I didn't feel sad. And, indeed, a couple of years later, my grandmother died too. We all went to Israel for the funeral. It was a somber funeral because she was the last of that generation, who toughly survived the Holocaust. And my uncle - he got the clock.

A few years by, and every once in a while, I thought of that clock. So, one day, years later, as I am visiting my uncle in a new apartment he'd moved to, I asked, "where's the clock?" And I don't remember exactly what he said, only that I could finally have it. And so, the clock now found its place in a suitcase that I specially bent to make it fit inside. I brought it to our family home in Munich, Germany. Of course, I was not thinking for a second to check it before going on the plane. And after carefully unpacking it, to discover that it does not work.

I looked all over Munich for someone who could repair the clock, but nobody knew how to handle an old Junghans wall clock. So thankfully, dear Sharon, who happens to work in the watch industry, said she knows somebody who could help - an old German watchmaker who knows how to deal with old clocks - in Tel Aviv. So again, it went into the special suitcase I made for it, and back to Israel, we go.

It took a few months, and the old watchmaker indeed managed to meticulously repair it, so, for a third time, it went with me on an airplane back to Germany. Now, the clock, which was working perfectly, was hanging on our wall. My ex-wife never liked that clock. And in a way, I guess I understand why, as it didn't fit the modern apartment, an old wooden and repaired clock.

Suddenly, one day, it stopped working again. Who knows why. Now, it was hanging and not even ticking, as if muted by more extraordinary powers. When we decided to divorce, we went through the tricky task of dividing our possessions. Of course, I got the clock. She put a little blue sticker on it to signal to the movers that it goes to my new place.

Divorce and moving day came, and the clock moved with me to a new life. I remember it being on the floor as if it's sad, but maybe also happy, and Gilad, my eldest son asking, "will the clock work now?" I said I don't know and probably have to repair it again because it didn't work. Gilad said he'll "fix" it. And he started playing with his toys to "repair" the clock.

After the movers left, and I still don't know why because it was most definitely broken, I hung the clock up in my new place in a place of honor - the living room corner. And I also don't know why but I tried to rewind and make it work one last time. And it did.

It still does to this day, only that it is muted - it ticks but does not chime on the hour anymore. Gilad proudly tells everybody how he repaired the clock. I didn't know if he did it, or the place did it, or the time did it, but I do know that every few days when I come to rewind the clock, it silently reminds me of the past and shows me the future.

This is the story of my grandparents' clock.