Racheli's Thoughts

I told myself that I was not going to write about the Sassoon family’s tragedy.  I want to write about happy things!  This is too much...  I have been numb and speechless since I heard the devastating news this past Saturday night.  I said I would never find words to express my feelings on it.

 As the week is coming to a close, though – I am searching for comfort.  I am searching for words that might help me move forward.  But I can’t find any.

 Just as I thought that there could be nothing more painful than my innocent nieces and nephews losing their father… we now have a father who loses the same amount of innocent children… and to this I am left in total shock. 

 I was just starting to get back on my feet, just starting to find some light in this darkness.  And now this. 

 I heard the haunting recording of the Sassoon children, singing Shwekey's “Cry No More – Yerushalayim!”.  I felt like their souls were singing to me from Heaven. 

 I embraced my daughter this morning before sending her off to preschool.  I didn’t want to let go.  The darkest of fears pounding on my mind’s door. 

 I am trying to picture our parents in Egypt.  I am thinking of the pain and devastation upon seeing their own children slaughtered by the merciless King Pharoah.  Coming home from endless hours of slavery and torture, to find out that their babies were taken by the Egyptian officers, never to return. 

 I am reflecting on the words we read in the Torah: וַיִּשְׁמַע אֱלֹקים אֶת נַאֲקָתָם  “And the children of Israel… cried out, and their cry ascended to G-d from the labor. G-d heard their cry, and G-d remembered His covenant... And G-d saw the children of Israel, and G-d knew”. 

G-d knows, G-d hears. 

He knows what we are going through, He brought the pain. 

“Why?” is not even worth asking.  I won’t waste my breath. 

“What now…?” is a better use of my energy. 

What now…?  Get ready for Pesach!

What now…?  Prepare for Redemption!

What now…?  Strengthen my belief.

Last week – I thought I believed.

Now I feel like I need to start all over again.

Back to the basics I go:

There is a G-d. 

He created this world. 

He has a plan. 

He told us this world was not going to be a jungle forever. 

He told us to believe in better times. 

What now…?  One foot in front of the other.

What now…?  Demand and cry out to G-d for mercy.

What now…?  Hug my children tight.

Dear G-d – if You wanted us to have a taste of Exile before Passover – You succeeded.  We get it. Now we’re ready for You to play Your part in the story.  We need an Exodus all over again!  Take us out of this bitter state!  Restore Your Glory in Yerushalayim!  Let us truly “Cry No More!”

Nothing is too hard for You, Hashem. 

I am still numb.  But I will do my best to focus on the “What now…?” 

I will do my best to strengthen that belief.

Until You wake us up for real.

There was glitter everywhere.  I mean, EVERYWHERE.  All over the table, on the carpet, on my skirt, in my student’s hair, in my baby's ears - it seemed that the glitter was there to stay - forever! 

I was at Lamplighters Jewish Academy, the school that we opened this past summer.  It was my first day back at work since my brother Ariel ob"m passed away.  I was trying to figure out how to get back to my pure and innocent students without bringing in too much of my heaviness.  Do I not say anything? That wouldn’t work – I can see in their eyes how they are looking to see if I am okay.  Do I show my feelings? That would be too intense.  Perhaps there is a teaching moment here - perhaps I can role model how Torah guides us to respond to such tragedy...

Action.  That's what the Torah teaches us.  That's what the Rebbe taught us.  After a major tragedy, the Rebbe once said "behemshech habinyan tinacheimu" - "by your continued building will you be comforted".  We need to build.  We need to grow.  We need to put one foot in front of another. 

So here was my idea.  I would come in with lots of craft supplies and empty tzedaka boxes.  We were going to decorate tzedaka boxes for each student to take home.  Every coin put in would go towards Ariel's Mikvah - a project he began, and we want to finish for him.  Although I had no words for my students, I knew I could lead a craft!  We would follow up with a math lesson to tally up the coins brought in and donate the sum at ArielsMikvah.com.  Action, here we go. 

I'm not a very crafty person.  I’ve never really used glitter before in this capacity  Oh my Goodness - did I learn a thing or two about glitter!  It went everywhere.  But it was amazing!  Glue, glitter, paint, tape, ribbon, and then beautiful tzedaka boxes emerging.  Covered in glitter, I felt so very grateful for how we have been raised and taught to cope with situations like this. 

The glitter scattered everywhere (which seemed impossible to undo), felt so much like my feelings: all over the place and with an undoable and irreversible reality. 

Yet the gold sparkly mess had me reflecting on why gold was created in the first place.  G-d created gold so that the Jewish people will create a home for Him with it.  In the desert we built a holy temple with vessels made of gold.  The first and second Holy Temple stood proudly in Jerusalem – the city of gold.

This is why we are here!  We are here to take all that G-d gave us and make good with it!  Make it sparkle and shine!

G-d gave us lots of ‘things’, including glitter.
Now we're using glitter to honor Ariel.
And to Honor the G-d who gave him to us in the first place. 

I have been told by people who suffered a similar loss things like "you never get over it”,  "I was never the same again", and "the pain stays forever".  I hope and pray that yes - it will stay with me forever.  But not the pain!  Rather, just like this glitter which simply won't come off, I shall forever hold onto the constant awareness on my job of creating a bright and golden future, and a constant excitement and readiness for better times.  Until the final Redemption and beyond - I will hold onto the comfort found in one mitzvah, and another and another.  One speck of glitter and another found - reminding me of each positive action needed. 

So the next day was Rosh Chodesh. I joined my students for the morning prayers.  We got up to Hallel - the thanksgiving prayer recited on all Jewish holidays.  The girls always inspire me when they pray.  Their sweet and innocent voices pierce through the madness of this world.  We got up to "Thank Hashem because He is Good, His Kindness is everlasting" - and I broke down - silently.  I cried my thanks to Hashem, for embracing me during this tough time.  I cried because although it's so crazy, I know He IS GOOD and I know He IS KIND!!  Thank you Hashem for giving me a brother like Ariel! 

And thank you - in advance - for returning him to me when Moshiach comes. 

A moment when time froze for me was upon hearing my six-year-old niece recite the blessing of "baruch dayan haemes" (blessing the True Judge), repeating after my husband word-by-word.  She said it with so much purity and sweetness, it hurt!  She could have been making a blessing on a CANDY with her enthusiasm in those holy words...She (along with all of us) is THANKING Hashem for this??? 

I was reminded of the very short few words that the father of Rabbi Gabi Holtzberg spoke at his funeral.  After the horrific murder of Rabbi Gabi and Rivky Holtzberg in their Chabad House in Mumbai, India, Gabi's father got up and said in Yiddish:  "I want to say thank you to Hashem for blessing me with a son who passed away in sanctification of G-d's name". And that was all.  Anyone who comprehended what he was conveying will remember his words forever.  Did he just thank G-d for taking his son??? Did I hear that right? He did!  Look at your people, Hashem!  They praise You no matter what! 

Thank you Hashem for slapping me? Yes!  Thank you Hashem! I'm not quite sure I know why I’m thanking You, but my soul seems to know...  And I definitely can thank You, Hashem, in advance, for the good days that are coming. 

I have always enjoyed   dreaming and visualizing the future redemption.  I love to imagine the reunions that will take place after Techiyas Hamesim - the Resurrection.  I imagine Moishe Holtzberg embracing his parents.  I imagine our friends, the Kreiman family reuniting.  And (too many) others. 

Why Hashem did this to my sister in law and her children? To my parents? THAT I do not understand!!

But for me?
I am feeling thankful and deeply grateful to be part of this magical reunion that will take place at any moment now. 

Tonight, my five-year-old daughter Menucha caught me off guard.  She asked me, out of the blue, if Ariel will be alive when Moshiach comes.  I said "yes".  She responded and I quote, word for word:   "I could just imagine when Moshiach comes and Ariel will come back home.  I imagine Avreme'le will be on his shoulder and Hindy on his other shoulder and Sheina Mushka on his head and Chanie dancing and jumping around.  And Mendy jumping.  And Levi hugging him on his legs.  Oh, and Sara'le hanging on from his back!! And the mommy will be… like…smiling at everyone…" 

From the mouth of the pure and innocent, straight to His glorious and holy throne…

I hope that I will still be finding specks of glitter on the day that the Holy Temple descends and graces the Temple Mount in my favorite place on earth – Yerushalayim – The City of Gold.  

Sometimes there are no words.  There truly is nothing to say.

I have seen lists composed on "What Not to Say" at a shiva call.  Such as, “It’s good!  He’s in a better place now” , or “I know how you feel”… 

 But what about what one SHOULD say?

I can only answer from my perspective.  A very limited perspective, I have learned.  Everyone grieves differently!  Some cry and cry.  Some laugh and laugh.  Some do both at the same time.  I have learned that there are truly no rules, there's no judging, and every single emotion on the spectrum is normal and expected.  And therefore every reaction to every communication is also normal and expected.  

We all know about what NOT to say, I think.

Dov and I always laughed at a particular "Haiku" we read in a book titled "Haikus for Jews".  It went like this:

The Shiva Call

I am sorry for your loss
Now back to my problems

 It's funny. But it's so true.  We often want to connect with the one in pain, show that we have also experienced pain and therefore have the right to speak.

Yes people say all kinds of things, and all of them very well meaning indeed! 

I tried hard over shiva not to get hurt or upset by people who said things that didn't feel good.  What do I want from people? I suppose it’s a good thing that we’re not experts at this!  Moshiach will come before we master the art of the shiva call.  

I noticed that sometimes the same words can feel good, and sometimes NOT feel good, depending on when they hit.

"I am with you"

Sweet, simple words.  They can be so touching if they came at the right moment. 

Yet they can feel quite the opposite!  "You’re with me?  You aren't really.  You're going home after this and back to life.  I'm the one who's going to have to live with this!" 

But again, no judgment.  I am sure that I have said plenty of things that didn't sit right with the recipient of my words.  How ARE we supposed to know what to say??

It was hard for me, in the weeks following shiva, when people averted my gaze, out of feeling completely lost about what to say.  I secretly wished they can come and admit to me that they don’t know what to say! 

So what in the world IS one to say to someone who is in pain?

Here is where we see the G-dly wisdom in the Halacha - the Jewish laws He gave us.

The halacha upon entering a shiva home is that the visitor is to remain silent until the mourner opens the conversation.  There IS nothing to say!  So don't say it! 

But that doesn't mean to ignore!  It doesn't mean to avoid.  Not saying anything is very different than ignoring.  You sit there, show your face, and allow the emotion to just "be".

When people admitted that they have nothing to say – it felt right. 

And then – I never knew how very, very, comforting would be the words the sages gave us to speak.  "Hamakom yenachem eschem mitoch shaar aveley tzion veyerushalayim."  - “G-d should comfort you among all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.”

After hearing those words hundreds of times, in person, via email, text and voice message – the words remain, ringing in my ears almost two months later. 

Hamakom - referring to G-d - will comfort you.  He's the only one who can!  Not a human being who thinks he gets it!  Only G-d Who created the pain, Who can understand the pain, can heal the pain for real.    

I've said those words before. 
I have never had them said to me.  
They are powerful.  We mourn among the mourners of Zion - our pain is a global pain. 

Again and again, I saw how only G-d Himself can truly comfort.  The only comfort was carrying out His laws which He gave us through the sages and prophets.  The moments of comfort were moments I was doing what G-d prescribes. 

Ripping my shirt on the day of the funeral - felt right.

Asking for forgiveness from my brother before the coffin was lowered - felt right.

Seeing important people, Rabbis, businessmen - shovel dirt over my brother's holy body at the burial - felt right.

Walking past the swarms of people as they recited the comforting words of "hamakom yenachem...." immediately following the burial - felt right. 

Sitting low, not looking in a mirror, not greeting others, and having countless people walk, drive and fly-in to be with us in-person - felt right.

On the final day, when we 'stood up' from Shiva, I was taken aback by the very interesting customs carried out in this particular ceremony.  I had never seen it before.

All the mourners (my siblings, parents, and Miriam), sat in a row.  That itself was an empowering moment.  Looking over at each of my family members – each a powerhouse in his/her own right – gave me strength.  We can do this, we are in this together! 

The gathering of people recited the comforting words of "hamakom" one last time together in unison.  And then the Rabbi shouted out "Shtey uff!" - in Yiddish - meaning "Get up!! Get up!!"  We all stood up. 

I heard myself shouting right back in my mind – “No!  I can't get up!  How do you expect me to get up and move on now?”  Yet the power in the room... a Halachic authority, with power in his voice, commanding the Heavenly command - that it is now time to rise and re-enter life. 

He speaks G-d’s words when he says it!

It’s NOT that I am ready to return to life!  If it was on my timeline - it may never be (G-d forbid)!  But shiva concludes because G-d tells us when it concludes.

The custom is for the family to then take a walk around the block, to take that first step back into society. 

We did.  Once again - it felt right. 

It was our first opportunity to share, laugh, vent about the highs and lows of the shiva experience.  We connected.  And all too soon, we were back after making that loop around the block.

Go back to life?!  No one other than G-d Himself can tell me to do that.

And in truth - it's not just shiva.  Perhaps I would benefit from ALWAYS checking in with G-d before saying anything to anyone. 

He created us.  He knows what's proper, what will sit right.

When to say "Good Shabbos"  
When to say "Shalom Aleichem"

And when to refrain from saying what we might want to say.

It's too easy to say the wrong thing.  

We see (in Leviticus) that when Aharon the High Priest hears that his two sons passed away, “Vayidom Aharon” - Aron was silent. 

Oh, it’s so hard to remain silent in the face of deep emotion!  Many of us like to fill an uncomfortable silence with the sound of our voices.  It gives us some control.  It’s easier than the vulnerability of deep feelings.  Even with “lighter” moments, like my child sharing about her pain at being insulted in school.  A hug, to be in the moment, to remain silent – is the hardest thing to do when I see a loved one in pain.  Words are spilling out all over the place in an attempt to “make it all better”!  Yet I’ve learned that silence is the greatest validation and the greatest gift.  And this is what G-d prescribes. 

On the day of Ariel's funeral, I was deeply touched by the sensitivity of the community.  Each and every one of Ariel's children was accompanied by an adult.  Each of the Rav-noy children's "Rebbi" or "Morah" - their own teacher from school - arranged for a subsitute for the day, so they can be with their student during this overwhelming time.  Seeing my neices and nephews with their own teacher at their side was incredibly moving to me.  Remember how you saw your teacher as your biggest hero when you wer a child? Imagine that hero, at your side, for a whole day - with no words, just his or her presence to show love and support. ... 

I've come to appreciate the power of the spoken word, as well as the unspoken word.

And the power of the simple, yet humble communication of "I don't know what to say".  

When tragedy strikes, when someone passes suddenly, I have a sickening feeling in the pit in my stomach.  It is a cry within me of - "Who's next???  What next??? Will it G-d forbid be me?!?"

I wonder if you can relate to this.  Something tells me that perhaps you can. 

What if that was my brother?
My husband? 
My son?
Will I too, G-d Forbid, get that dreaded phone call one day...?

And as much as my heart cries for the family who is suffering most, that self-preserving voice within me is frantic with fear... fear of some tragedy, G-d Forbid - striking even closer to home...

On Tuesday afternoon, the 7th of Shevat, I joined a conference call with some friends of mine from my childhood.  We had started a weekly conference Torah-Call in honor of three fathers and one brother (of my classmates) who had passed away - way too young - over the last decade.   As I got off the call, I couldn't help but feel heavy.  We are too young to have FOUR out of twelve of our graduating class missing a family member! 

And then I had a thought.  "Why do I deserve to have all of my immediate family members alive?"  Although I tried to push the thought out of my mind, it lingered for a bit. 

The following morning, on the 8th of Shevat, my brother Rabbi Ariel Rav-Noy passed away suddenly. 

Of course I will not take blame for what happened…

(Although it is a natural reaction to take blame.  We are all bombarded with feelings of guilt.  "I could have", "I should have", "if only"... Perhaps we do that as a way of gaining control over an out-of-control situation?  Perhaps we think if we can take blame, we can also change the past or safeguard the future? But Hashem runs this world, and this was all His doing...)

However, this experience sharply reminded me of the most powerful teaching I have ever learned from the Lubavitcher Rebbe. 

"Va'yirah Moshe" - Moses was afraid - we are told in the beginning of Exodus.  It is unusual for us to hear about emotions in the Torah.  Delving into those verses, it becomes clear that it was the fear of Moses that caused what happened in the next verse - the actualization of that fear.  Moses was afraid that the merciless King Paroah would find out that he murdered an Egyptian.  And indeed, Paroah heard, and Moses was in life-threatening danger. 

Our thoughts are POWERFUL - super, super powerful! 

We under-estimate how powerful and how potent each and every thought of ours is. 

Late at night, when it is quiet, I cry.  I feel terror at the thought of tragic loss. 

And now I can't help but wonder who out there shares my fear...
How many hundreds and thousands out there are also afraid, when alone with their thoughts...

I have decided to take upon myself a meditation.  A meditation to set the tone for my day - right at the end of the daily morning prayers. 

This magical concluding prayer begins with the words: "Al tirah" - "do not fear".  We recite the words - and I meditate on it - do not fear sudden terror!  Do not fear tragedy!  Do not fear illness, pain and suffering! 

The next verse takes me higher...  “Utzu eytzav vesufar…” - "Conspire a plot, but it will not materialize, for G-d is with us.”  Even when negativity is brewing!  Even when I have REASON to believe that negativity may befall us G-d forbid, for it is starting to formulate... G-d is with me… and I trust in Him, He can create a ‘happy ending’. 

But the third rung of this meditation takes the most effort by far.  "Ve'ad ziknah"- “To your old age I am with you… I have made you, and I will carry you…”, says G-d.  Old age?  Everyone will experience that at SOME point, no?  How can I NOT fear old age, and all the challenges that come along with it? Isn't that just a part of the natural order of things? Isn't that just expected?

Yet here are the words that I learned, that have been life-changing, and that I hope to meditate on until the coming of Moshiach and beyond.  "Ani asisi"- G-d has created me!!!  G-d has created the nature of old age.  The nature of life-not-being-so-perfect.  He created the reality of "no gain without pain".  And JUST as easily as He created it, He can change it!

A Jew is NOT SUBJECT to the laws of nature!

And a Jew is meant to believe, to trust, that only good will come his way! Always!  And Forevermore!

Even negative occurrences that are bound to unfold at some point, don't have to! 

The same G-d who created those realities can switch them over in a moment.

Really??  "But why do I deserve to have all of my immediate family members alive?" - that voice from that Tuesday afternoon comes back to me...  But my Rebbe teaches me that those words must not be allowed into my conscious thoughts.  They may knock on my door as long as they would like.  But I don't let them in.  Like Moses whom we are told about had a fear that materialized - we learn that as Jews, we are to welcome only the most positive of thoughts.  

But why do I deserve to have all the goodness and blessings I have in my life???  Why do I deserve to come home to a loving husband?  I truly, truly do NOT feel deserving!!

But it is not about who deserves and who does not deserve.  It is about a Kind, Loving, and Almighty G-d who created this universe with a Master-plan.  In His Master-plan, he asked us all to think positive.  He asked us to trust that He will take care of us. 

So why do I believe that all will be well? Why do I believe that our loved ones will live?

Not because I deserve it.  But because Hashem wants me to.  It enhances my relationship with Him when I trust.  The trust itself earns me the results I hope and dream for.  The trust materializes the goodness (just as fear can G-d forbid do the opposite). 

It's SO HARD to believe, though!  Especially when I can list you people who believed and trusted their guts out, and did NOT experience the results they so hoped for. 

Yet I do believe – and I do trust - simply because Hashem said I should.

I believe that we can live together with our loved ones, forever, until the final Redemption and beyond.  

Do I believe my brother can come back to life?

Oh boy, now THAT'S a tough one!  I saw the burial with my own eyes.  The practicalities of that are way too complicated for me to imagine. 

Yet I believe - because "we are believers, sons of believers".  This belief is one of the 13 Tenets of our Faith.  I am a Jew and Hashem wants me to welcome this belief into my every breath.  

It happens to be a pretty incredible thing to believe, anyhow - don't you think?

These are some of the things that I tell my fears.  And sometimes I sing to my fears!  I composed a tune and wrote words with this message, so that if needed, I can sing my fears away…

Below are the words to my song.  In the near future I will be posting a recording of it with the original tune.   

Trust in Hashem 

Oh I’m feeling so alone here,
How can I know how all will unfold
“Think good it will be good”
“Just be strong” is what I’m told
I struggle to believe it
When things just seem to come and go
I reach far deep within me
Find the courage to trust the One in Control…

Chorus:
Vehaboteach baHashem chesed oh chesed yesovevenu
Trust in Hashem, kindness will surround you.

Now I see goodness unfolding
When I trust in His sweet blessings
Time after time He comes through for me
Making my dreams a reality
Oh, I see a world overflowing
With happy tears and harmony
and now we are all healing
And the struggle is gone, forevermore….

Chorus

The harder I try to be positive
The harder He tries to make it easy to live.
The more I believe He'll be holding me tight
The more that He’s going to prove me right…

As my husband and I make our way through security at the airport, trying to catch that flight with our children, with suitcases, car-seats, strollers and more – I wonder – why all the disapproving looks?

 Are people upset with us for having a lot of kids? 

Are they feeling thankful they did not have any? 

Are they pleased with their own personal decision to stop having children after having had one or two of their own?

Are they secretly wishing that they had allowed themselves to have more children? 

Or perhaps they are simply praying their hearts out that they don’t end up on our flight?!

 As Rabbi Dov says - "I wouldn’t mind reminding some people that we were all babies at some point, making a lot of noise and dirtying our diapers as well!"

 I have met many people who see child-rearing as a complete burden, and haven’t experienced the rich joys of it all. 

 My brother Ariel ob"m has left behind seven beautiful children.  Many nod their heads with sympathy - what a shame for all of those children to now be left without a father... True - it is heartbreaking!  Yet what an incredible gift Ariel has given us!  He left us an army!  They help us feel as if we truly have not lost him at all!  His one-year-old baby Avreme’le looks at me, and I see Ariel's eyes - alive and strong.  I know that with his mother Miriam’s love and direction, he will carry on his father's legacy along with his older siblings, G-d willing. 

 Once, Ariel was running late to give a class, having been delayed by helping his wife with the children.  It was a Pizza and Parsha class for Jewish college students.  He walked in, looking around at the faces of his students sitting around the table waiting.  Without shame or guilt, he announced proudly:  "I want to give all of you a blessing that one day, YOU will ALSO run late for the same reason that I am late today!  My wife and kids delayed me, and you too, should one day have a wife and children in your life!"

Ariel was so deeply connected to his children.  His wife and children definitely came first.   He was so proud of how many he had!  And I know he wanted to have many more.

Something so touching happened during the week of shiva – the week of traditional mourning.  A friend of our family had been struggling for many years with an internal dilemma.  It was about bringing a large family into this world.  She shared with me often how "un-domestic" of a person she is, how she has no clue how she and her husband would have the emotional, physical, and financial resources to have more children.  Yet she knew it was something they wanted to do.  Countless tears she shed over this conundrum.  "I wish that I wanted more children!  I wish I believed and trusted that G-d would give me the strength to birth and raise more!"'.  When she visited me during shiva, she shared with me that the moment she had been waiting for had come to her so suddenly and so unexpectedly.  A light bulb went off for her, literally while on the way to see me and pay the shiva-call.    "I want to have another baby!"  She exclaimed.  “I'm ready!  I know Hashem will help me work out the details.  I just want to bring another soul into this word…”  Her words and sentiments warmed my heart.  I am not surprised that as Ariel's soul ascended, the inspiration to bring another soul into the word descended!  From these thoughts also emerged the idea of building a Mikvah in Ariel's honor... bringing more souls into this world in purity.

You see, what this wonderful friend of mine has now realized – is something Ariel knew so naturally.  G-d runs the world!  The same G-d who gives money, strength, wisdom and (most importantly) patience – has commanded us to procreate!  He gave us the commandment, the first mitzvah in the Torah – to “be fruitful and multiply” – to fill the earth with beautiful children and future leaders.  We have a lot to learn from the very pure and uncomplicated trust in the G-d “Who opens His arm and sustains all” – a trust that Ariel lived by. 

With this trust, many would allow themselves to follow their inner (and sometimes hidden) desire to grow their families… With this trust, some couples would take comfort that G-d knows what’s best for them.  That if for whatever emotional or physical reason they are not able to have many children, this too is part of His plan.  With this trust, we believe Hashem has a master-plan for every family.  With this trust, we welcome Hashem’s blessings.       

Three short weeks prior to Ariel’s passing, our family took a very special and memorable trip to Palm Springs.  My mother had a sudden desire that all of her children should spend a week together on a family vacation.  What a joy to be together!  The cousins bonded, the siblings connected, it was a truly special time.  Ariel, particularly, enjoyed it very much - especially seeing his children bond with their cousins.   

And then our family was hit with this unexpected blow.  But Hashem prepared us.  We had an invaluable opportunity to strengthen our ties.  The best comfort we all find now is being with each other!  We have a close-knit family and the love and care among all the cousins, siblings, grandparents – the multi-generational bonding – is what is carrying us through each day now. 

Imagine Ariel was my parent's only child....
I don't want to imagine. 

"Ma zaroh bechayim af hu bechayim"- just as his children are alive, he too is alive.  This thought has become real for me now.  We have his beautiful children. 

And we will have more, G-d willing, in his honor. 

We now have this precious family photo with Ariel thanks to my mother, may she be well.  My mother has always nurtured our desire to stick together, as a family.