A community hero who had been in a coma for three years after tragically being stung by bees was this week laid to rest.
Father of two, Shaun Karpelowsky, 48, a Community Security Organisation (CSO) stalwart, was remembered for his passion for protecting the lives of the community and putting others first.
“No, I haven’t lost you. Not at all. Not even close,” wrote his devoted wife, Liora, 44 on Monday, 8 August, bringing to a close three years of life interrupted as she tended to his needs.
With their family life suspended in a time warp of perpetual hope and heartache, she said, “You’re always right here. You’ll always live in the space above my rib cage, where it still beats your name.”
“Shaun was totally passionate and committed to his family, friends, and the community ,” said Rabbi Eitan Ash. He was an intensely private man, which belied the hundreds of mourners who converged on West Park Cemetery to pay tribute to him, testament to the admiration in which he was held and his understated greatness.
“He spent hours night and day protecting the lives of the community,” said Ash, commenting that Karpelowsky inspired the longest running rotating tehillim group and dozens of charity and chesed events around the world, all in his name.
On 17 July 2019, Karpelowsky, a plumber specialising in water leaks, was stung by a few bees while attending to a leak-detection job in Glenhazel, Johannesburg. Highly allergic, the bees sent a surge of life-threatening poison through his strapping body, instantly causing anaphylactic shock, resulting in him collapsing a few seconds after.
News of this situation sent shock waves through communal emergency personnel, who reacted with lightning speed.
Within minutes, the very men and women he had worked alongside at the CSO and Ezra, the medical response team of the CSO, as well as paramedics from Hatzolah, descended on the Corbel Crescent home to revive their hero and friend – someone they called a brother.
Paramedics and doctors worked tirelessly to save his life, but devastatingly, he never regained full consciousness.
Liora described what happened three years ago as like having “the rug pulled out from under our feet”.
On the third anniversary of the incident, three weeks before his passing, she wrote a message on Facebook acknowledging the support and care she had received and explaining that the damage to her husband’s brain from lack of oxygen was severe.
He wasn’t able to see or hear or recognise the sound of her voice or attach meaning to the gentle touch of her hand, she said. “I’m comforted to know that Shaun doesn’t know, think, or feel. It would be even more devastating if he did.”
“Sometimes, it feels like he’s looking right at me, even though I know he’s not. He’s here but he’s not.”
For three years, she said, it felt as if there was a giant wrecking ball hanging over her shoulder, waiting.
In this “space of uncertainty” she endeavoured not to “borrow sorrow from tomorrow”. Instead, she hoped, while they waited “in that difficult space that is everyday life, we are able to try to actually live, not just survive. That we are able to try and find the beauty, gratitude, and joy in the smallest of things.”
Nicknamed “Chopper” by his close friends, Karpelowsky was described this week as a man who was “humble to his core” and “fiercely unassuming”.
He wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes, friends said, and he never needed recognition or praise.
“He had a passion for protecting people,” said family friend and long-time running partner, Steve Crouse, who described Karpelowsky as an avid outdoor enthusiast.
“He loved camping and being fit and healthy, and took part in multiday backpacking hikes and warrior races which included strength and endurance events. He was the strongest man I knew,” Crouse said.
He recalls one scary time when Karpelowsky was stung by a bee six years ago in the Cederberg mountains.
“We were in the middle of nowhere. It was day three of a six-day hike when a group of us stopped for a break at a wine farm. We had been in the wilderness on rations, so welcomed a cold beer. There was a bee in the neck of the bottle which stung him. I jabbed him in his leg with his epipen,” he said.
Then followed a frantic drive through mountainous roads to get him to the nearest hospital in Clanwilliam while Karpelowsky lay unconscious in the back of the vehicle.
“That’s when I realised how allergic he was,” Crouse said.
Karpelowsky had a wide circle of friends, many of whom go back to their Betar days where he met Liora, becoming teenage sweethearts.
Darryl Oberstein, a lifelong friend since nursery school, said Karpelowsky loved to sing and had a beautiful voice.
“I have the best memories listening to him play guitar around the Betar camp fire. That’s where he lured Liora with his voice and charm,” he said.
“He had a calling to protect. I believe he didn’t want to leave his family, friends, and community behind, and on a deeper level, that’s why he held on so tightly,” he said.
Close friend Mark Riesnik, who worked with him at the CSO, said, “He was the true definition of a friend, a mensch, and what it means to be a CSO protector.”
Countless charity events and prayer sessions in his name have been held since the incident. A close group of friends continued putting tefillin on him while he lay unconscious until his last breath.
“One would think that his ability to affect people’s lives would have ended with him in a coma, but remarkably, even like that, Shaun was still able to transform people’s lives,” said Ash.
Karpelowsky is survived by his wife, Liora, children Idan, 16, and Ashira, 14, his parents, Lionel and Rhona, and sister, Melanie Greenstein, all their close family, and friends.
