He had just come into his own, his maturity suiting him well. Fit as a fiddle physically, mentally, and emotionally, he seemed ready to conquer the world. His life ahead was full of promise and in the weeks leading up to Pesach, his parents had begun to set their sights on finding their bechor’s life partner.
Shattered hearts, broken dreams… This is not the way it’s supposed to be…
My son is a tzaddik. As he and his family were about to begin their week of shiva on motzaei Yom Tov, I asked him how he was faring. “The parshah this week is Acharei Mos,” he replied without a second’s hesitation. “Aharon HaKohen earned great schar for his silence in the face of the tragedy of losing two of his sons.”
I’m not a tzadekes. The angelic voice of my firstborn einikel wafts through the air in waves, echoing through the chambers of my aching heart. I am overcome with acute nostalgia for a time that was and will never be again.
My grieving daughter-in-law is a tzadekes. Even as she wipes away tear after tear she expresses her gratitude for having been granted a precious gift for twenty years.
After the Seder Josh had hugged his siblings in a show of affection and cuddled up against his little brother Moshe for a bit before heading up to his own private quarters in the attic. It was Moshe – sent to fetch his late-sleeping big brother the next day – who would find him unresponsive.
A bechor…before the break of dawn on Shabbos Kodesh… of Pesach…A Korban Pesach… a pure neshamah summoned on high…
Who are we to understand the way it’s supposed to be?
* * * * *
Hashem has performed so much chesed for us, intones my son the tzaddik. Aunt Liora’s dream, for one. A longtime almanah in fragile health, Aunt Liora (name altered for privacy) was not immediately informed of the tragic loss of her devoted great-nephew whom she adored. Her next of kin couldn’t see keeping it secret for long and so the sad news was divulged soon after the levayah on Chol HaMoed.
Turned out Josh had already prevailed on high to cushion the blow. Aunt Liora had the strangest dream first days of Pesach. A framed picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe had appeared on a wall in her home. No, Aunt Liora is not Lubavitch nor does she have a photo of the Rebbe hanging on her wall. As she gazed wonderingly at the framed photo in her dream, it sprang alive. All at once, Josh was standing next to the Rebbe, regally attired in a chazzan’s formal hat and robe.
A startled Aunt Liora asked the Rebbe what her great-nephew was doing there beside him. The Rebbe replied, “Hashem wanted his singing up here.” The thought that ran through Aunt Liora’s mind upon awakening was that she could never reveal her peculiar dream to anyone. Now, however, she understood…
The second night of Pesach – the first without the presence of Yehoshua ben Baruch HaLevi among us – marked the first counting of the Omer. The Sefirah linked to the first day is the trait of chesed she’bachesed (kindness within loving-kindness), one of the divine attributes by which Hashem interacts with the world.
How else to account for a close family friend’s sudden intense urge to visit (instead of taking a much needed nap as she’d planned)? The unrelenting drive to rush right over was unexplainable. Heeding her compulsion nonetheless, she arrived there as the tragedy unfolded, just in time to support a family in dire stress and upheaval.
