My Danielle,

I always thought that I had a big heart, that it could contain anything. But I was wrong. My heart refuses to absorb the enormous ache that you left, and my mind refuses to accept and internalize reality…

Lately, I’ve been hearing words like “memorial” and “dedication” with your name attached to it, words that, in my mind, don’t connect to you—to your essence, to your plans and dreams and aspirations and the radiant future that you had in store for you.

I can’t bear to speak of you in past tense.

I keep thinking that you went on an extended vacation, but that you’ll be back soon so I can greet you with a bear hug. I’ll listen to you, hear your rolling laughter. We’ll fool around, have fun, and I’ll tell you again and again how much I love you.

It’s been less than two years since you entered my life, with the trademark modesty and serenity that characterized you.  In time, you opened up, and our relationship deepened, drawing us closer together. I discovered rare goodness of heart, the joy of diving into any task, even when unpleasant, and endless devotion. I revealed magical innocence, an unpretentious nature, wisdom and understanding that far surpassed your youth. I grew to love that beautiful smile that never left your face, along with your infinite inner and outer beauty.

Very quickly, I began seeing you as my daughter, one of six wonderful daughters who occupied a very special place in my life—with birthdays, shared experiences, correspondence until the wee hours of the morning, and hours of laughter and consultations in every possible realm.

I always knew that I could trust you, and that every request or need would be immediately filled with genuine desire and in the best possible way. Even when the others felt drained, couldn’t go on, or needed to unwind, you never left. You were always there, often lingering long after it was time to go home.

It was three days before the one that changed my life forever. The last time I saw you was when we met in Beit Oranit. If I’d only known that it would be the last time, I never would have let you go. I wouldn’t have let you get away, and I would have hugged you close again and again and done everything I could so you should remain.

It’s been seven years since I began living other people’s pain. Constant anguish that never stops hurting. I can never fathom how they go on afterward… This time the agony is also mine, razor-sharp and cutting as only deep inner pain can feel, and still I hope it isn’t true. This time, I also can’t fathom how we will go on, because nothing is the same without you.

I love you so much, always and forever,

Tzipy Friedlander