I’ve been trying hard.

Trying to bury my head in work, in good and bad things happening in the family and around us in the outer world, trying to tell myself that twenty years should be enough to stop hurting. It should be, indeed. And yet …

These ten days between the two calendars, Jewish and secular, always bring me to those last dark days in December just five months after our arrival here with hopes for refuah and dreams of a better life as a family. And although I am staying late at work with tons to do, I can’t help but think about you realizing that I miss you so much that all my insides hurt as if I was just kicked hard somewhere in the middle of my body.  My dad z’l used to say “My soul hurts” and that’s exactly what I can say now, twenty years since your last breath.

What is it that still binds me to you as if there’s a rope around my heart that is so long that it goes all the way to wherever you are, sometimes allowing me to walk almost not feeling it and sometimes holding me so tightly that it’s hard to breathe? Is it your smile, your humorous answer to any question or situation? Or, is the way you looked at me your eyes almost caressing me with their kindness and understanding? I will never know. Sometimes I feel that I am losing that sight of you, forgetting your phrases, your features, your gestures. Sometimes. Not now.

Wherever you are, I know that unless you have completely fulfilled your mission here and are enjoying your peace as close to The Source of all living as possible, you are helping others to feel better, believe in themselves and telling your stories.

I don’t know how my life will go on. At the present rate, I might still have a decent number of years to hang here. I do believe though, that somehow, somewhere we shall see each other again. And next time let it be forever.