Pesach #2

The Pesach experience was a great improvement over last year. “Firsts” are always the hardest. The second year is sort of like redefining yourself as a person. The first year you are not even a person. You have no definition.
We spent the first Seder by a family that we are close to who lost a child as well.
There was a moment when we almost lost it, all of is. It felt like a long, intense moment. It was the type that could be perceived in the air. We all knew that it was a make or break it moment. I think we all held it together for each other. The moment passed and the rest of the Seder and the one that followed were beautiful.

'How is this night different? My son is no longer with me'

Article from jPOST

click below:

'How is this night different? My son is no longer with me'
By Matthew Wagner

1st year Anniversary

Today is the 1 year Anniversary of this blog.
My first post was:

Moving On

This is my first blog test. I hope to share thoughts and ideas of my own or that I have learned from others. I hope that these ideas will have meaning and will benefit others.


Not sure if I reached any of my goals. On one hand we have come so far. On the other hand the feeling of loss is as strong as when I started. I often think that only the quantity (how often you feel the pain) diminishes not the quality. I can honestly say that I am not the person that I was before Nechama died. She has been my "guiding light" and a source of strength from which to draw when the going gets tough. After all the people who I have spoken to ,all the books that I have read and all of the articles that I have researched in addition to lectures, retreats and blogging, I still sit by the feet of a bereaved parent during shiva with no words to say. " It will get easier". I can only show them the face of a man who feels the pain of loss yet continues to "Move On".

Let us pray that this Pesach "brings" the Geulah that we so desperately need. Wishing all of you a Happy and Healthy Holiday!

A 19yr girl

A 19yr girl from my community passed away today. She caught the flu while in Israel prior to returning home for Pesach. After her arrival in the US, she went to a doctor caught influenza and a staff infection. I will go to the shiva house. Once again, I need to look upon the faces of the parents, devastated and in shock. For the first 15 minutes, I struggle to find the words to say. Shouldn’t I know what to say since I had been in their place?! An unimaginable place unless you have been there. The next 25 minutes will be slowly moving to their “line of sight” wondering when they will ask who I am and for what reason I have come. My mind numbs and my lips quiver as I know, deep in my heart, that nothing that I say will comfort them. But I go anyways hoping the memory of my presence will be felt even after I leave. I remember a couple who came to comfort us during shiva. I spoke all of 2 words to them. Before leaving, the father spoke the customary words of Hamakom Yenachem etchem. Before he left, he told me that his son was also buried in Har Menuchos. I never forgot that moment and to this day I don’t know why it remains etched in my mind. Somehow knowing that someone else can understand you is the only comfort that can help.