Nebech

I had a hard time sleeping last night and had just dozed off when I heard the very familiar rustle of footed pyjamas on crib sheets. I picked my baby up and stroked a very soft cheek while saying “Mama’s here” over and over. 

I’ve naturally been thinking a lot about Faigy Mayer since Monday night. But in the night, when my baby wakes, I think about Faigy’s mother. I think about what it would be like to hold your daughter tightly, to respond to her cries, to stroke her cheek as she fell back asleep and thirty years later be hit with the news that she had taken her own life. I think about the torment I’d have, and wonder if Faigy’s mother is tormented or brainwashed into thinking that because Faigy was Off the Derech she was somewhat less than. Nebech. 

I also think about the mop of hair lying to the baby’s left. I wonder if she’ll struggle one day with mental illness. I wonder where she got her compassion from and wonder if it will make her vulnerable to being taken advantage of. As the tears broke through at dinner last night, she held my face in her tiny 5 year old hands and wiped away my tears. I wonder if she’ll reach out to someone who hurts and stop them from thinking about ending their lives. I hope so. 

There’s not much point to this other than acknowledging a sadness. I’m sad for Faigy. I’m sad that she doesn’t have the opportunity to get better. I’m sad that the world lost an emerging star. I’m sad that we lost a woman in technology. I’m sad that the frum velt is framing this as an OTD issue rather than one with many layers and many complexities. 

But I’m happy that in the last conversation I ever spoke to Faigy, I said “you’re so cool”. I wish I could have been in New York, at 7.25 on Monday night, and told her that again. Nebech. For everyone. 

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