I never thought of myself as a writer, I always had a hard time expressing myself with words. It never came easily to me.
But in the last ten months, God has chosen me to be a channel for His messages, His teachings, and lessons for life.
Want more news, videos and stories? Join the Haredim 10 WhatsApp channel >>
Enter: Registration for daycare for the 2012 school year is moving online
They said it was a mild flu: This is how we will stop the lies of anti-vaccine activists
But now, I have no more words. I feel silenced. Or maybe I just silenced myself. And that's okay. I've been through and seen an unbelievable amount of trauma, and I need to process. I need to grieve. I need to give all the emotional energy I have to each of our children. And I need time to rebuild myself so I can rebuild my family after I've been shattered into a million pieces.
I may not be writing now, but I still feel. And I will continue to share those feelings – perhaps not through words per se, but through sound. Through music. In the only way I know I can: by tapping into the core of my being and allowing every emotion and nuance to be released through the notes of the piano as well as the spaces between them.
So here it is. The piece I started composing a few weeks ago. The piece I played for Yudi on that beautiful Wednesday morning, when the sun was still shining and Yudi was alive, happy, grateful.
The piece I recorded that Wednesday afternoon right before I went to the tent, and I saw a beautiful sunset.
The beautiful day quickly turned into one of the darkest nights, when I received the call from the doctor that would change our lives forever.
This is the last piece that Yudi heard me play while he was in this physical world.
It's emotional for me to watch this video. I think back and remember how I felt at that moment, and how unaware I was of what was about to happen next.
I haven't had a chance to finish this piece yet, but I wanted to share anyway because of its significance.
A few weeks ago, when I first started this tune, I titled it "Sunny Days." That was the title that just came to me while writing it. I didn’t think too much about it, but after that Wednesday night and Thursday, I so badly want to re-describe it. But I won’t. A lot of intense and heavy emotions were released into this tune. They were definitely not "sunshine," but for some reason, I still chose that title, and I will honor that decision, knowing and believing that this title describes everything the piece represents.
We may have very dark, gloomy, rainy, and freezing days, but they don't take anything away from the 'sunny' days. I am determined to continue to see the rays and the light and the sun that continue to shine in the depths of darkness. May we only have sunny days!
Thank you, God, for everything you do through the merit of Chaim Schneur Zalman Yehuda Ben Aharon Leib and for continuing to bring more light to the world!
