Although we didn’t know each other for very long, friendships are measured not by duration or length, but by the depth of the bond shared. Good and tough times spent together unite two people and impact them eternally. And this is exactly what we had throughout this past year.

We spent 24 hours a day together, 7 days a week—all six of us—and we all felt that we’d known each other forever, real sisters…

You left us with such wonderful, special memories that it’s impossible to part, let alone forget. I think that if I had to sum you up in one word, it would be ‘superwoman.’  Danielle, you always knew exactly how to touch each child’s heart, exactly what to say. You had boundless energy, dropping us all off at our doors at any hour. You always skipped lunch, saying that it was superfluous and who needs to eat anyway when you can spend the time with another kid? I lost track of the number of times your artistic talents saved us when we needed to decorate the ward. You always said that there was no reason to waste time doing arts and crafts when we could be spending it with the kids in the ward, and that you’d gladly finish up at home. I remember sitting together at the piano, playing and singing for hours, while you—who really knew how to play—barely touched the keys because you didn’t want to show off. You always gave others the opportunity to shine, downplaying your talents in your inherently modest way.

I miss you so much! I miss hugging you, talking to you, discussing and laughing with you. Danielle, I can’t absorb that this is my goodbye letter to you… Our reunions aren’t the same anymore, and at some point or other, someone always wonders aloud when you’ll show up? We can’t absorb the reality, Danielle. We all share the same perpetual longing to see your face in pictures and videos so we can reminisce about those beautiful moments spent together, hear your contagious laughter and, for a moment, let ourselves forget that you’re gone and hope that in just a minute or two you’ll jump out of nowhere, laugh, and shout, “Gotcha!”

The only thing that helps us endure this tragedy is believing and knowing that you’re happy up there, that you’re with all those precious kids who aren’t with us anymore, and that you’re taking good care of them now, occasionally looking down at us, laughing, and above all, watching out for us.

Danielle, I can’t believe that this is my goodbye letter to you. My heart refuses to believe it. My mind can’t absorb it.

Loving, missing and promising never to forget,

Sapir Weizman