Grief and the Passage of Time

It's interesting.

People who haven't visited grief may not be able to relate to this fully. But I still feel a need to explain it. Maybe my words will help them understand. 

And maybe this can help them relate to something deeper.

The more time that passes since my younger brother's death, the more it hurts.

No, not in the intense way it hurt in the beginning, when I cried so much that I didn't know I had the capacity to contain so many tears in my body. 

Not in the way my heart hurt so strongly. Not in the way I felt this ache inside of me, a physical sensation that stayed with me no matter where I went.

None of that.

What hurts so much is that the more time that passes since my brother's death, the more I think about how much he missed out on and how much could have been different if only he was still here.

I think about where he'd be in life and wonder, what kind of girl would he have married? How many kids would they have had by now? Would we still be as close as we were when we were teens? Where would he live? How much would we share? How often would we talk?

I also think about all the milestones he's missed and all the small and big parts of my life I haven't been able to share with him. 

And that hurts.

A lot. 

I imagine how much my life would be different with my brother in it. How much joy and laughter we'd share if he lived nearby, if we'd be able to spend time together and be in each other's company. 

And that makes me reflect upon Hashem and the beis hamikdosh we mourn. While we wish for it to be rebuilt, every year that passes without it only intensifies the grief and mourning.

Another year without the beis hamikdosh? Another year without connection, closeness and clarity? Another year sitting in this galus, distant, disconnected and full of dread for the upcoming fast day?

What would life be like if we had the beis hamikdosh? How would life be different for us if we were living the ideal life and were closer and more connected to Hashem through every milestone and every challenge? Can we even imagine?

Every year that passes without my brother in it makes me miss him more and wish he were here. And it makes me wonder how my life would be so different if he was in it.

Every year that passes without the closeness that geula affords us makes me yearn for it even more deeply. I wonder what my life would look like if I was able to live with the clarity and bond that is only possible once we are out of this galus.

I yearn for more.

My heart aches for change.

My insides desire something so different. 

I imagine a time when we will be able to go to the beis hamikdosh and listen to the beautiful notes of the levi'im, playing their soulful instruments and singing their touching songs and we will be transformed and elevated to a different plane. And we will connect, reflect and be moved to a different realm of existence. Music will become a meditation. Songs will heal our aching souls. Harmony will allow us to reach a state words alone could never accomplish. 

What would our life be like if we had this all along?

That question hurts.

And it hurts more deeply every year.

Because we're still here.

And we long for more.

We yearn for something so much deeper than what we have now.

And the possibility that we could have had it but still live without it makes the yearning that much stronger, that much more intense.

So yes, the more time that passes since my brother's death, the more it hurts. Because I realize that another year passed without him in it and as much as I imagine my life along with him right here, it's still a dream.

And the more time that passes without the rebuilding of the beis hamikdosh, the more it hurts. Because I realize that another year has passed without the closeness and relationship I yearn so deeply for.

Hashem…we are waiting. 

We are hoping.

We are dreaming.

We are praying.

We are doing the best we can.

We want to be closer to you. 

Even with all the distractions.

Don't you see it?

Don't you see our desire?

How much longer will we have to wait?

How Can This Be?

Motzei Tisha Bav 2024
Eicha?
How can this be?
How can we still
Be waiting
Yearning
Hoping
For the Geula 
And it still
Has not arrived?
How can we have
Gone through
Another Tisha Bav 
Another fast
Cried
Mourned
About the past
While hoping 
For 
A brighter future
And it still remains
In the future?
Eicha?
How can this be?
How can we still 
Be waiting
Yearning
Hoping
For change?
And the change 
We wait for
Still hasn't 
Come to be?
What change
Do we have to make
Within ourselves
To bring about
The Ultimate change
The change 
We are waiting for
So desperately?
We went through 
The motions
And hopefully 
Aroused 
Emotions
We sat on low chairs
Didn't eat
Or drink
Tried to connect 
And tried to think
We watched videos
That awakened
Even the strongest
Of hearts
Our hearts
Opened up
To the pain 
Of our brothers
And sisters
Who are mothers
And fathers
Sons 
And daughters
Who experienced 
A painful year
We shed tears
We felt the pain
Of galus
In a way
We haven't felt
In previous years
And now...
We continue
To wait
We hoped
There would be
A change
For our nation
We dreamed
Of the day
When it all
Would change
And we wished
Today 
Would have been
That day
But Hashem
Who knows
And sees
Beyond what we
Can see
Knows
That we need
A little more
Time 
Perhaps
The time
Is almost
Here
We hope
And wish
And dream
And yearn
And pray
For the day
When the time
Will be ripe
Until then...
Hashem...?
Please give us
The strength 
To continue 
Hoping
Wishing
Dreaming
And praying
Please help us
Notice
What we need
To change
What we need
To do
So we can
Come closer 
To You
And help us
Take the steps
To come back
To You.
It was a hard day
A heavy day
And we need You
To carry us through
Whatever comes next
Please, Hashem
Look into our hearts
See our yearning 
And our desire to
Connect
To You
To come back
To You
And bring us back
Bring us home
To You.

Why Will I Cry?

Erev Tisha Bav 2024
This year
Why
Will I 
Cry?
Will I cry
For the hostages
Waiting
Yearning
To be released?
Will I cry
For their families 
Waiting
Yearning 
Each moment
Filled with agony
Each day
Feeling like
Eternity 
Not knowing
What their loved ones
Are enduring 
Or if they are 
Still alive?
Or will I cry for
The soldiers
Who are no longer
Alive?
Will I cry for
Entire families
Murdered
On Simchas Torah?
Or will I cry for
Those injured
Stuck in hospitals
In pain 
Recovering 
Slowly?
Will I cry for
Those who lost
Limbs
While fighting 
To protect
Our nation
Our country 
Our people?
Or will I cry for
The wives
Of chayalim
Who have to endure
So much pain
Separation
Uncertainty 
Loneliness
As they yearn for
Their spouse 
To come back?
Will I cry for
The mothers 
Who lost their sons
And daughters
In this war?
Or will I cry for
The siblings 
Who lost 
Their brother
Or sister 
And won't ever see them
Again
In this lifetime?
Will I cry for
The lost souls
Those who don't know
What they're missing?
Or will I cry for
The ones
Who threw it all away
Because they were
Cast away
Despised
And hurt?
Will I cry for
The families
Stuck in fights
Not knowing
How it started
Or how to fix it?
Or will I cry for
The ones
Waiting
To start a family
But can't 
Because they don't have
A spouse
Or can't yet
Have children?
Will I cry for
The children 
Who can't live at home
Because their home
Is at risk
Of rocket fire?
Or will I cry for
The children
Who are living 
In their homes
But live in fear
Of an attack
And can't sleep
At night?
Will I cry for
The soldiers
Who have witness
Things
No one
Should ever see?
Will I cry for the survivors
Of the attacks 
On Simchas Torah
Who went through trauma
Watching their friends
Lose their lives
Before their eyes?
Or will I cry for
Each one
Who was killed
While trying to escape?
Will I cry
For the many homes
That were destroyed?
Or will I cry
For the One
Whose Home
Was destroyed
And is the root
Of all destruction 
We witness
To this day?
Hashem...
Look at Your People
Look at our pain
See our anguish
See our yearning
To come back to You
To be reunited with You
To come home
Bring us all home
So we can once again
Witness
The Kingdom of David
Restored
The Bais Hamikdosh 
Rebuilt
The Kohanim
The Karbanos
The Leviim
The Singing 
The Clarity
The Connection 
And the ultimate
Reunion
Between us and You.

Hug

I went to daven at my brother's kever yesterday. 

On the way, I was feeling very emotional, of course. I had music on and I was crying and I was thinking, I really need a hug right now. Hashem, can you please send someone to give me a hug? I was hoping maybe I'd meet someone I know at the cemetery but honestly, what are the chances? 

I got to the cemetery and I didn't see any people or any cars. Just lots and lots of tombstones. I davened and cried a lot and unloaded a lot of emotions. 

On my way out, I stopped at the administration building to wash my hands and use the bathroom. I saw another car there with 4 women inside. They were stopping for the bathroom on their way into the cemetery. I asked them if there's anything special about today and they said it's their mother's yartzeit. So I said, "Can I give you a hug? I'm giving out free hugs." and proceeded to hug each one of them. Some of them felt a little awkward, I could tell from the way they accepted the hugs lol...then I told one of them, I asked Hashem for a hug today. So she said, now here's a hug for you! And she gave me a tight, all embracing hug. It was just what I needed.

Hashem has the power and ability to answer us, even when it seems unlikely for us to get what we asked for!

Why I Cry

I wrote this poem seven years ago. I still remember sitting on a bench on Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn, taking out my notebook and writing.
The message is still relevant now as it was when I wrote it. 
Read and be inspired!

Why I Cry
I look up at
The deep blue sky
And slowly
Teardrops
Form in my eyes
And I 
Begin to cry

Why?
Why do I cry?

I cry because
When I am in pain
When I am hurting
I know how to cry
It's almost...easy
The tears just come

When I am overwhelmed
By...my life
By...my struggles
By...my challenges
By...my difficulties
I know how to cry
Those tears
Spring forth from my eyes

So why?
Is it so hard to cry?
When the month of Av
Comes around
And I should be thinking
Feeling
Hashem's pain
Hashem's loss
Our pain
Our loss
A house that once was
A nation that once was
The glory that once was
A relationship that once was

Why?
Why can't I cry?
Why don't I feel the pain
Why is it
So hard to feel
To make it real
To me?

When I'm having it hard
When someone hurts me
Those tears flow
So freely

When I'm simply taken over
Overwhelmed
By so many little things
And sometimes
Sometimes bigger things
I can cry
Easily

But...Hashem's pain?!
The thought of the kosel
The thought of the shechina in galus
The thought of all that we are missing?
Why doesn't that make me cry?
As simply
As effortlessly
As easily
As my own pain?
As my own life?

Hashem...?
I lift my eyes
Up to Your skies
I think about
Things
Close to me
That hurt me
That touch me
That inspire me
To cry

And I realize...
They are all connected.

It may be easier
For me
To shed tears
Over personal losses
Over personal hurts
Over personal frustrations
Over...my personal life

And I see
I understand
That it all comes from
The same place

A place of emotion
A place of longing
Of yearning
And of hoping

So...although I may not
Be able to cry
Shed real tears
Over bigger losses
Bigger pain
Deeper losses
Deeper pain
I know...
That inside
My heart is crying

And Hashem
Who is bochain libos u'chelayos
Who knows
Who sees
And Who understands
The inner workings
The inner chambers
Of my heart

He knows
He sees
And He understands

The inner sigh
The inner cry

Even
Without
Real tears.

I lift up my eyes
Look up at the shimmering blue sky
Searching
Yearning
Hoping
And...yes.
Crying
Without real tears
But I cry inside 
And Hashem
Understands
Why
I cry.

May we reach the day of u'macha Hashem dim'ah mei'al kol panim. Amen.

Shmuly the Spring-A Story

Someone sent me this very inspiring, poignant and emotionally touching story and I want to share it with you. Although it is very long, it is worth the read.

Hi. My name is Shmuel, and I am 28 years old. 

Most of the people who know me simply call me “Shmuly.”

I am not used to telling stories. I’m the kind of guy who does better with action. That is why it took me some time to put together all the parts of my personal story and write it down so that I can share it with you.

My story began about eighteen years ago.
I was ten years old, a pretty regular kid, just like everyone else…except in one area. 
I had a really hard time sitting in one place for a prolonged period of time.

And when I say “time,” I don’t mean what you probably think. My concept of time is different than most people’s. “Too much time,” for me, means a few seconds.

Yeah, I’m a “spring,” if you will. 

If this would be today, I would surely get a diagnosis comprised of a string of initials (along with a pill or two), but in those days there weren’t that many interpretations, so the nickname given to me was short and friendly, “Shmuly the Spring.” 

Honestly, I didn’t mind. I knew that it was true, and I could actually relate to the imagery.

Baruch Hashem, I had no complaints. I had incredible rabbeim who didn’t make a big issue out of my hyperactivity. 

Everyone in my class was already used to the fact that Shmuly the Spring is the one who is sent to bring the rebbe coffee in middle of class, and other such jobs, basically keeping me busy. And truthfully, I liked the arrangement, too. 

I would sit in front of the rebbe and try hard to listen and understand what he was teaching. Then, when I couldn’t focus anymore (usually after a few minutes), I would look for something to do. At that point I would hear the rebbe’s voice calling to me, “Shmuly, please get us some more chalk.” I would happily get up and run to perform the chore.

That was basically what my life in school was like. 

One morning, as we waited for our rebbe to enter the classroom, the principal walked in instead. He stood behind the rebbe’s desk and asked for silence.

“I’m sorry to share this with you,” he said, “but your rebbe has suddenly fallen ill and had to undergo emergency surgery last night. He will not be coming back for the next few weeks.”

We were in shock. We loved our rebbe and were really worried about him.

The principal continued, “Now, boys, let’s say some Tehillim for his recovery.” We said some Tehillim with extra kavanah for our rebbe’s speedy recovery.

That day, the principal taught us, but the following day he walked into our classroom with a man we didn’t know. 

“Boys,” the principal said, “this is Rabbi Substitute. He is going to be your substitute rebbe until your regular rebbe gets better, be’ezras Hashem.”

Rabbi Substitute walked over to the rebbe’s desk, and the principal left the classroom.
I’m not sure what made me immediately realize that my life was not going to be easy with Rabbi Substitute. Maybe it was the stern look on his face, or the hoarse voice with which he addressed us, but something told me there was going to be trouble soon.
I was right. It was only a few minutes later when I sensed a heavy shadow over me. I looked up and found Rabbi Substitute staring angrily down at me through his somewhat-dirty glasses.

“What are you busy with over there?” he thundered. 

I dropped the beautiful paper airplane I had just completed. The stunning plane did not have a chance inside Rabbi Substitute’s clutched fist, and I felt my heart tearing inside me along with it. 

I found myself standing shamefacedly in the principal’s office.

After recess was over, I returned to the classroom. But this scenario repeated itself over and over again in different variations.
After a few days of mounting frustration on all sides, my parents were called to the school. “In my class, all students must learn,” Rabbi Substitute told them firmly. “What do you think he’s going to grow up to be like if he doesn’t use his brain?” He refused to allow me to perform the various tasks that had been my lifeline until then. 

Every day, I would be punished and sent out of the classroom in humiliation. I began to feel disappointed and disgusted with myself. I always knew that I was not exactly a typical child, I knew that I was better with my hands than with my head, but I always managed somehow, thanks the energy that Hashem endowed me with and the fact that I loved to help people.

For Rabbi Substitute, however, these qualities meant nothing.

One day, Rabbi Substitute decided to call an emergency meeting to discuss my problems. My parents and I were both called in for a long, painful lecture. I remember my father trying to say something like, “Our Shmuly has other qualities… Maybe his head is less at work but he has amazing hands…”, but Rabbi Substitute didn’t allow my father to say a word.

And here, I remember how Rabbi Substitute’s face reddened. He pointed a finger at me and shouted, “If you don’t start using your head, you’ll amount to nothing! Nothing!”

Then he added under his breath, “Good hands will make you a good plumber, nothing more.”

The days passed, somehow, and finally, finally, our regular rebbe recovered and returned to the classroom. I never saw Rabbi Substitute again.

With time, I even managed to forget his hurtful words. Most of the time. 

Sometimes, unexpectedly, I would hear his words playing in my head and shrink into myself with humiliation. When that happened, I would feel like an absolute nothing.

Is that all I could ever hope to amount to? A plumber? Could I really do nothing more? Was I truly worth nothing?!

I admit, though, that this did not happen often. Most of the time, I was busy performing the countless chores and tasks that my rabbeim came up with to keep me busy and confident. 

I grew up, finished cheder, and then yeshivah ketanah. I was accepted to a good yeshivah gedolah thanks to my many other talents. So maybe I was not the brightest boy in the class, but I had other things going for me. The many small jobs I did in yeshivah helped me tremendously. The yeshivah and summer camps were where I felt proud and happy.

When I started shidduchim, I knew more or less what kind of girl I wanted to marry. A short while later, I met my wife who wanted me just as I was.

We got married, and I began my married life in kollel. Of course, at the same time, I was searching for some action to fill up my day too; something that would keep me busy and allow me to feel good about myself. 

I found that in Israel’s medical emergency response team, a job that saves me from myself. I do many shifts, am always first at the scene and the last to leave it. 

Some people might make a face hearing that, but I love the drama and the action, and – more than anything else – the tremendous chessed that I can perform for people in the most critical moments of their lives. 

Slowly, I started climbing up the ranks. I did further training. At some point, MADA became my second home.

One night, I woke up to the sound of the dispatcher calling all nearby volunteers to rush to an emergency nearby. Apparently, someone had lost consciousness and needed help. 

The address was nowhere nearby, but for some reason I decided to rush to the scene anyway. I figured that there were not many volunteers in that area, and the late hour would make it even less likely that someone could get there quickly. MADA’s headquarters were also too far from the scene. 

I jumped into my car and quickly drove over to the address the dispatcher had announced. As soon as I arrived, I realized that I had indeed arrived first. I grabbed my first-aid kit and rushed up the stairs. The panicked voices and the light coming from the apartment led me directly to an elderly man lying on the living room floor. A woman stood next to him – his wife, I presumed – crying hysterically. 
I quickly began checking his vitals and performing CPR. Things were not looking good…

No pulse. No breathing. 

As I worked, a Hatzalah volunteer arrived at the scene and began working alongside me. 

“No pulse or breathing,” I reported to the station. “Send MICU urgently.” The Hatzalah volunteer and I continued working furiously. This guy doesn’t have much of a chance, I thought. Who knows how long he’s been lying like this, in this condition.
But I’m used to leaving my thoughts for my own pillow… for when I try to fall asleep at night. Right now, I had to focus on what I needed to do – and do it. 

The ambulance arrived and with it, more advanced equipment. The full team and I continued to do our best, but…nothing. The guy wouldn’t wake up. 

The team gave up, but I refused to. I continued to put in every bit of strength I could muster, without thinking. 

Yair, a fellow paramedic, placed his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were telling me, Forget it, this is a lost cause.

But I kept going. 

The other guys knew me already. They weren’t going to try explaining to me for the umpteenth time that I was too naïve.
I pushed. I pushed again.

And then suddenly I felt something change.
I checked carefully and began screaming like a madman, “There’s a pulse! There’s a pulse!”

The paramedics looked at the patient and immediately realized that I was right. They all began working feverishly again. 

Somehow, they managed to stabilize him and rushed him to the nearest hospital together with his tearful wife.

Honestly, I was very emotional as I watched them go. I’ve been in this field for years, but it is still rare to succeed in performing a successful resuscitation -  especially in such a case, where the man had been lying unconscious for so long.

I gathered my things and headed back home.

A month passed, and I nearly forgot the incident. One morning, my phone rang. 

“Hi, is this Shmuly, from MADA?”

“Yes, who am I speaking with?”

The young man on the other end of the line told me that he was this elderly man’s grandson. My thoughts went back to that fateful night, and I asked him with some hesitation, “How is he?” I wasn’t sure what I was going to hear. I knew that not many people survive after being deprived of oxygen for so long, and even those who do survive are generally badly crippled as a result. 

“You have no idea,” the grandson told me with obvious emotion. “You gave us our grandfather back!”

I was so moved that I could hardly get any words out of my mouth. 

The young man told me that they had been searching all week long for the phone number of the “angel who saved their grandfather” – that was how he described me. He told me that his grandfather had been discharged and is completely back to his usual self. “We would love to have you join us at the seudas hodaya that we are making in honor of this miracle!”

I could not refuse. I still remembered the address, so I just asked him for the date and time. 

On the day of the seudah, I came to the house again. The apartment was filled with family members and tables laden with cakes and candy. 

They all welcomed me with hugs and joyful greetings. I have never met these people before, but it seemed that to them I was like family. I was given a seat at the head of the table, next to a dignified-looking man with a white beard.

His face looked familiar…but now I was seeing his face with a healthy coloring.

When he saw me, he stood up and enveloped me in a warm hug. I felt his tears wetting my shoulder, and then my own tears coursing down my cheeks.

He murmured words of thanks, and it was obvious that he was very, very emotional. 
I myself was feeling my own storm of emotions – and not only because of the opportunity I had been given to save another man’s life. 

With shocking clarity, I suddenly realized that this man who was now looking at me with such gratitude-filled eyes was none other than my childhood teacher, Rabbi Substitute. It must have been his voice that made all the memories surface, but I had no doubt about it. I gently asked him about his life and where he was from. Yes, it was him…

He did not seem to recognize me, but that was understandable. Unlike him, my own appearance had changed drastically since I was ten years old… 

I was difficult for me to contain myself. I felt an unexplainable urge to tell him who I was.

I asked one of his sons, who was sitting next to me, to allow me to speak to his father privately. He looked at me in surprise, but apparently, my status as the “savior” helped ward off questions. He stood up and whispered into his father’s ear. 

I saw Rabbi Substitute’s eyes looking at me, and then his head nodding in agreement.
We were led to a side room. After we both settled on the day bed in the room and the door closed behind us, I burst into uncontrollable tears.

I had planned to talk to him, but the wave of emotions was stronger than me. I myself had not realized, until that moment, just how deeply he had hurt me. 

I felt his hands on my head, and then heard his soothing words trying to calm me. He obviously could not understand what was happening to me.

After I calmed down somewhat, I raised red-rimmed eyes and began to tell him who I was. It took a few moments for him to recall. “You’re Shmuly?” he pointed a shaking finger at me. I saw understanding dawn, and his face suddenly became very white. 

I felt a pang of panic. I had already seen his face looking like that. Slowly, however, his color returned. And then it was his turn to cry.

We did not exchange more than a few words, but to me it seemed like we had spent hours in deep conversation. 
We simply didn’t need any words. The tears said everything. The deep hurt…the frustration and the pain…the insidious effect of his behavior toward me in the classroom… and also, his regret, his remorse…

He hugged me again, and I returned the hug, feeling forgiveness wash over me. A huge rock was lifted from my chest.

“And I told you that you’ll amount to nothing,” he whispered, his voice filled with indescribable regret.

He asked for my forgiveness again and again, and I told him I was fully mochel. 

We walked back into the living room, both of us with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy faces. People looked at us in bewilderment. 
When Rabbi Substitute reached his seat, he motioned for me to sit on the adjacent chair, but he himself remained standing. He told everyone that he wanted to say a few words. Within seconds, everyone fell silent. It was clear that they all wanted to know what had happened.

Rabbi Substitute first began by praising me for saving his life. He especially emphasized the illogical efforts I had put in despite the fact that realistically, there was no longer any hope. He focused on the main point, in his opinion, which was that I worked against all odds and used my heart, not my head. 

Then he told everyone who I was and where we had first met. 

He told them everything. He repeated the words he had used then, at the fateful meeting with my parents, and the things he said about me in front of the entire class. At this point, people were crying unabashedly. In a broken voice he turned to me and asked for my forgiveness again. 

I could not speak. I only nodded my consent, my own throat choked with tears. 

Then, Rabbi Substitute ended in a heartfelt statement. “Twenty years ago, I told you that you do not use your head. Yet what saved me now was precisely the fact that you did not follow your head – but your heart. Years ago, I thought you had a problem and were not thinking enough. Now I know that what you have is actually a huge heart.”

He hugged me again, and I returned the hug.

That is my story. 

It was not easy for me to write it all. You must have realized by now that I am not the sort of person who can easily sit and write things down. But I did it anyway, because I want you to always remember:

There are some kids who have a great head.

There are kids who have a great heart.

And they are all Hashem’s children.

Parshas Pinchas

Hashem told Moshe Rabbeinu to climb to the top of Har Ha'avarim so he could see Eretz Yisroel before he died. His tefillah to go into EY had not been answered positively, but he did get to see the land.

In life, we daven for many things. Sometimes we see answers clearly, and things turn out exactly the way we were hoping for. Other times, it's less clear. We need to remember that Hashem hears every tefillah and listens to every cry for help. No matter what the result of our tefillah seems to be, Hashem treasures every one and at times saves that tefillah for a later date when we will need those zechusim.

May we be able to turn to Hashem whenever we need Him and stay strong in our emunah that every tefillah has a purpose and is valuable!

Dear Father of Mine

The following poem was written by a friend, B.K., and I'm posting it with her permission.

Dear father of mine
To you I cry and sigh
Tear after tear
Hoping you do hear
I scream and yell to you
Maybe something it will do
I stand here with great pain
Pain so intense, could go insane

Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
It’s hard to understand
You left us Behind in the sand
It’s hard to go on
Feel like a part of me is gone
How many more will you take
How can this be for the good of their sake

Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
Engaged to be wed
And now their dead
So fresh so young 
And for them a grave was dug
I can ask why a million times
And come up with neither answer nor find

Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
Is this truly life
Full of crime and strife
Days filled with anger and sadness
People shooting with madness
Death signs all over 
People with faces so sober 

Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
For all those who have died
For parents walking around red eyed
For teens so lost
Sick kids full of exhaust
So many battles fought each day
Yet so pure they never complain 

Dear father of mine
The sun does still shine
I know one day I will look back
See things in white not black
One day I’ll understand why
You made us cry
Why we went through so much hurt
Trying to find you amongst the dirt

Dear father of mine
All these suffering are the sign
The time for redemption has arrived
The Jewish nation please do revive
Glorify your name 
Your place in this world acclaim
Being moshiach now
The goyim to you will all bow

Dear father of mine....

I will continue to cry and sigh..

One Soul

Too much pain
Hurts my brain
Can wrap my head around it
Hurts my heart
I can't start
To imagine it
For those closest to it
A young couple
Engaged to be wed
And instead
Boom
They're dead
How??
How does Hashem allow
Such pain
To remain
To exist 
In this world
Our imperfect world
Our confusing world
Our painful world
In His world
In His book
This all looks
Perfect
How??
How can we understand 
We can't
Make sense
Of something
That doesn't make
Any sense.
A young bride
Smile so wide
Stands beside
Her new partner
Her partner in life
And now in death
They met their end
Right at the beginning 
Of their new life
No chance to be
Husband and wife
No chance to prove
All the wonderful things
They started to know
About each other.
Shidduchim
So complex
So deep
So full
Research
Say yes
Go out
Another yes
And now?
A slap
A no
No
You will not go
The way of most
Brides and grooms
You're escorted to
A different room
To a place where
Neshamos go
Because Hashem knows
That your neshamos glow
Brighter than
The smiles you wore
While you were so sure
Of your wonderful life
Ahead of you
Hashem took you
Away
From your families
Together
Your neshamos were bound
In this world
Two halves
Of one whole
Ready to become
One soul
Now you're one
One with Hashem 
One with each other
One with
Your other brother
The one who
Just two
Years ago
Also
Left this world.
Do all these neshamos 
Hang out together?
Do all of them
Watch us
Cry and remember?
Do all of them have 
The clarity we seek
Oh how I wish
I could have a little peek
A touch of understanding
A hint of clarity
A piece of that light
To illuminate this night
(And a chunk of time
With someone up there
That could stretch til eternity
So we could just share...)
But I am stuck here
Alone and confused
With nothing to gain
And so much to lose
If I just wallow and cry
And continue to ask why
I need to do more than just sigh 
I need to use that why
To propel me to go
To move
And to grow
To higher places
To better places
I wish I could know
Where I am meant to go
In which direction to grow
Where to direct all this pain
So something will be gained
To know what to change
Yet I am left in the dark
I can only do my small part
In trying to fix
Myself
To take this pain
So it won't be in vain
But 
We are stuck
In galus
Without clarity
Or prophets
To help us
To tell us
To explain to us
The true meaning 
Behind each happening
So I will pray
For the day
When we will have
All that
And more
Clarity
Closeness
Connection 
With the One Above
And the ones we love
Hashem...?
Can you strengthen me?
Can you strengthen all of us?
Until that day?