A decade

Has it really been that long?

My heart pauses, momentarily, when I think about what the world lost from you.

I couldn’t bring myself to name my next baby your name. It was too soon. Adding Chaim in front still was too raw.

I waited until 2014, 8 years after you’d left this world, to use your name. I couldn’t say a word. The rabbi, with his skills in oration, told your story. My brother, visiting from across an ocean and looking incredibly out of place with his beard and velvet yarmulke, wept audibly as the shul heard about how many people you’d helped by the age of 25.

I see your face, your eyes shining, and want to tell you so much about the almost two year old that has your memory in a name. This baby is a copy of your fearlessness. A plough-through-life kind of person, just like you were. A blessing to so many, just like you were.

We were having tea in your living room yesterday. The milky tea our grandmother made us in the mornings, the one you instinctively knew how to make when I showed up at your door 6 months before you died.

Has it really been 10 years?

To the day.

I miss you, B.


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