Photo: Shutterstock.

"Are you serious? Where? When? Now…?!” Shmuel’s voice tore through my drowsiness. A blurry sense of urgency made me force my eyes open. “Sure sure” I heard Shmuel say “of course. I’ll check with the airline.” It was close to 2 a.m. What needs checking? Doesn’t he leave for the airport soon?

This trip had been inching through the pipeline for months. My husband’s kollel was in dire need of funds and for various reasons he was unable to make his yearly fundraising trip earlier. Now the ticket was booked meetings were set and his suitcase was almost packed. I’d been snoozing when the phone call had interrupted his last-minute preparations.

Once he realized I was awake Shmuel brought me up to speed. “My chavrusa just called. There’s been a mega terror attack in Istanbul’s Ataturk Airport.”

My brain was still foggy. It took a while to absorb the implications. Shmuel’s itinerary was through Ataturk Airport. But from what we were hearing on the news sites the Turkish airport was a shambles all major roads leading to the airport were closed and flights were being canceled.

I felt a bittersweet tug. I’m never good at goodbyes and there’d be no one happier than I to discover that Shmuel was staying right here. But — this trip was important. He had to go. But a tragedy was still unfolding in the place where Shmuel would be heading shortly. Dozens killed. Over a hundred injured. Lives shattered. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

“Don’t worry” Shmuel tried to placate me. “They’ll never strike two days in a row.” I swallowed. So now I should believe in terrorist tactics? It’s a good thing I put my trust elsewhere. Together Shmuel and I pored over my laptop trying to pave our way through the jumbled information desperately seeking clarity.