Losing My Parents at the Wedding: Limor Zusman’s Journey of Healing

It’s been 23 years since the Versailles wedding disaster, yet the memory remains vivid: what should have been a joyful celebration turned into a tragic event when the dance floor collapsed, killing 23 people and injuring over 300. Often forgotten, though, are the individuals whose lives were forever altered. One such person is Limor Zusman, who at just six years old, became the third of four siblings to lose both parents in an instant. 'We lived in Jerusalem at the time, in Pisgat Ze’ev,' she recalls. 'My mom’s friend’s son was getting married, so it wasn’t close family. My parents debated whether to attend but decided on a brief visit to say "mazel tov."

'Honestly, I was excited for them to leave so I could make a mess at home with my brother, and then we went to sleep. In the morning, I woke up with an unusual thirst and shouted "Dad, I’m thirsty, I need water." No answer came. It was strange. I got up and went to the living room, looking for him. Instead, I found my grandma there, crying. She told me my parents were in an accident and needed prayers. Today, I know they were already gone, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Shortly after, I was told they had passed. I distinctly remember a deep understanding that from then on, I was all alone—and believed I had a special guardian from above. There’s even a photo of six-year-old me pointing to the stars, saying, 'Dad, Mom, and Hashem are watching over me.' In that moment, I grew up by 30 years.'

After the accident, the orphaned siblings went to live with their aunt and uncle. Limor describes this as the beginning of her survival journey. 'There wasn’t any conversation or acknowledgment of the loss. Everyone in the family was wrapped in their mourning. Nobody saw me, or knew how to mediate the situation for me. I don’t say this with judgment, but from my perspective, there was a little girl that no one noticed. I realized then that if no one saw me at that moment, they never would. That’s when I understood I’d have to get married on my own, without any help or strings pulled for me. If I wanted someone to care, I’d need to pay for it.'

Now at 29, a mother of six living in Tal Tzion, Limor has traversed a long and meaningful journey towards her current inner strength and understanding.

'I choose to focus on the light, on the miracles I’ve seen in my life, on every child who isn’t a given. On the emotional work I’ve done without skimping on my soul. There was a part of me that fought so hard. I knew that if I didn’t process what I went through, I wouldn’t know how to continue, so I went and took care of myself. Now I know it was worth everything, going through those experiences to the end without fleeing, not betraying myself, and accepting the pain that a child was abandoned, integrating all I went through on the way.'

'I realized this is my reality and I, only I, need to build my life with no one around to tell me so. I also understood there’s no connection between my level of faith and the wounded child within me, and I needed to embrace that place without judgment.'

The Happiest Day Was Also the Saddest

'At 19 and a half, I got married, the first among my siblings. When we went to the rabbinate to open a wedding file and present my parents’ marriage certificate, I brought their document. But my ID showed the names of other parents—my adopting aunt and uncle. I explained, but they couldn’t process it and there was no one to talk to. We were close to the wedding date; I looked up to the heavens, saying, 'Hashem, you took my parents but gave me my husband. You won’t leave me in this absurd situation.'

We then tried another city’s rabbinate, but they also had no idea how to assist. Finally, a clerk suggested consulting a rabbi related to kosher certification, who upon hearing my dilemma, wept. It turned out he had officiated my parents’ wedding and was a relative! Knowing the story, he didn’t need proof and arranged everything in minutes. Remarkably, he performed my wedding too. I was stunned. How did I find the rabbi who married my parents, and now married us? We were speechless at this incredible providence. This is just one among many stories that show we’re looked after from above. It’s all about how we view things.

Her wedding canopy experience was unforgettable. 'My siblings stood beside me, but it felt forced as I was the third child but the first to marry, while my older siblings were still single. I handled all wedding preparations by myself. Nobody asked if I needed help or how I managed. Essentially, my happiest day was also my saddest. Marrying without parents is an indescribable hurt. In my canopy photos, I’m crying, asking why I wept so much, why they weren’t there. I sensed them and believed they were present but alongside that, felt profound pain over their absence at such a major life moment, the blend of sadness and joy.'

Limor escorts her younger sister to the bridal canopy

You’ve described a childhood of deep mistrust in the world yet went on to marry at 19. How?

'It was simply about the strongest needs surpassing the others. Despite the profound trust deficit, I knew I wanted a home and stability, understanding I’d have to sustain it all alone. Even today, there’re challenges but also healing. A spouse can help heal past scars, but also confront us with them. It affects every level. Once, if my husband was 15 minutes late from prayers, I assumed someone would tell me he wasn’t coming back. My judgment was impaired so young, yet I couldn’t blame myself. I knew I needed extensive personal work. Now, thank God, I’m in a much different place.'

How is it being a mother without having your own from age six?

'I consider myself a "good enough mom." I strive to meet my children’s needs while setting boundaries. I always look outward too, towards children who lack. At end-of-year parties, ensuring no child dances alone if parents don’t show. For our Pesach party, giving my kid extra lettuce and a hard-boiled egg just in case another child forgets, or providing pencils at the start of school in case a child doesn’t have them. Being sensitive to others is how I mend the hurt child within. If Hashem gave me this trial, it also came with a way to make amends—being a good mom to my kids and to that child in me.'

Do your children know what you went through?

'Certainly. They know their grandparents are in heaven by Hashem’s will, and they're in a good place. I’ve told my older kids it wasn’t easy and that I raised myself, yet I avoid delving too deeply, to prevent abandonment fears in them. For them, thankfully, there are at least grandparents on their father’s side.'

How does your loss affect your relationship?

'Marriage strengthens the reality that no substitute exists for parents, a spouse isn’t a mother or father, it’s a different love. Accepting the irreplaceability of parents was my toughest realization—I constantly sought a replacement, only to grasp there’s no unconditional love.

I often questioned why others had parents while I did not, why someone had family supporting them to the chuppah while I stood alone until appreciating the gift of having parents—for him—is also my marital salvation, as his lack of such immense gaps helped our partnership’s psychological health because no substitute exists for parental presence.'

Limor has pursued marriage counseling and parenting guidance studies in recent years to give and learn from areas of personal lack. 'Over time, I saw Hashem gave me heightened empathy and, with only six years of maternal modeling, I chose to deeply study motherhood—for myself and to assist others. I learned how to be a better spouse and parent, guiding couples to understand themselves better and connect to their inner child. To this day, when asked about my work, I say it’s self-work. Only recently did I realize my vocation is truly in helping others.'

Limor Zusman's family

'I Wanted to Tell Everyone: Don’t Pity Us, We Aren’t Victims'

After the tragic Simchat Torah massacre, Limor chose to share her personal story to support massacre orphans by sharing her own journey through adversity and growth. She sent an encouraging letter to journalist Sivan Rahav Meir, specially addressed to four-year-old Abigail Aidan, who was kidnapped to Gaza and also lost her parents in a brutal murder. Her letter garnered significant public response and touched many lives.

'As a child sitting shiva, I felt everyone was engrossed in their pain. Even when I vanished, no one seemed to notice. I still feel compelled to make up for it with other children. Through my letter, I aimed to convey the situation of so many orphans, explaining coping and processing their reality, how to mediate their losses, ensuring attention reaches them. Simultaneously, I wanted to emphatically state: don’t view us as fragile victims but as strong individuals. I sought to voice the orphans’ plight, to let us build ourselves with strength.'

'Recently, I reached out to Tomer Zak, who lost her parents and brother in the Kfar Rimon massacre, leaving just her and a brother. I also contacted Abigail Aidan's uncle, after her tragic story touched all of Israel. I shared my letter, and he kindly responded, hoping we might meet one day. I’ve received calls from many journalists and media figures as well.'

What has kept you going through all these years?

'Belief in goodness. I constantly told myself, 'Believe the best will come, the most positive, healthiest, and exact.' Sure, there are difficult moments, like no one accompanying me in postpartum to prepare Shabbat meals, yet the light far outshines the darkness. Last week, for instance, I went alone to the hospital for pneumonia, since my husband was home with the kids, and I felt regret. I looked skyward and whispered, 'Master of the Universe, the hospital is so close to where my parents lived. They’re no longer with me, but I realize how they could assist more from above than if they were alive.' To my surprise, an unfamiliar woman named Rachel, whom I’ve never met, took it upon herself to accompany me through all the tests, until I was released. Even as doctors prescribed oxygen, she drove to Shaare Zedek Hospital on my behalf and brought me home. Without my asking, she appeared. I still don’t understand who she was or what she was doing there. Hashem sends us angels.

Additionally, during my delivery, Rabbi Kanievsky appeared in the dream of Rabbi Kolodesky’s driver, instructing her of a laboring mother in need. The driver knew me and my pregnancy, verifying my recent childbirth, and fainted, realizing the directive applied to me, because the rabbi had a distinct sensitivity for orphans. She visited me, helping with everything I needed—hospital suite, baby essentials. In disbelief, I asked how she knew and why she came. There’s no one to grant me favors, so Hashem Himself, through miracles and wonders, keeps showing me I’m never forgotten.

I give thanks every day for the abundant good. I see no darkness, only miracles. I perceive reality as constantly praising Hashem. That’s not to say it’s effortless or there isn’t insecurity from my losses, or that I don’t work hard, but there’s a positive and valuable side. Likewise, I want to emphasize we don’t judge those who handle difficulties differently, endowed with other strengths for their trials.'

Do you ever feel anger?

'The groom’s mother, a friend of my mom, once approached me at the cemetery on the annual memorial day, crying and screaming, claiming it was her fault we’re orphans today, that she’s to blame. I looked at her and said, 'If it didn’t happen at the wedding, it would have on the drive home—they had to leave, who are we to question that?'

Versailles hall during the disaster (Photo: Flash90)

'Moreover, sometime before the tragedy, my parents attended a different event where a great rabbi was present. My mom had asked my dad to seek his blessing, and the rabbi had given a peculiar one—to avoid strange death. After the loss, Dad’s sisters queried the rabbi why he didn’t prevent it, how he knew, but he said, 'I merely blessed; what Hashem decrees is His.' There are no flaws from Hashem.'

So not only is there no anger, there never was. There’s even gratitude it was me, because I recognize now that I have the strength, yet I pray others never endure this. When it happened, I pointed to the stars and said, 'Hashem gave; Hashem took; blessed be His name.' My life is rich with impossible miracle stories and the superhuman strengths He granted me to traverse everything on my path. Over time, I can say all my pleas to Hashem materialized, and I feel a steadfast protection over me. Only when I grew older did I realize the immense power orphans hold, being closest to Hashem.'

Limor Zusman joined Moran Kurs’s program, 'Not Taken For Granted.' The full interview will air soon.