Wednesday, late afternoon. I receive a message: "Terror attack in Jerusalem.".
The moment you receive such a message, you stop for a moment and immediately painfully tell those around you about the terrible attack that happened.
But yesterday it was completely different. A few minutes after I received the message, I also received a phone call: At that moment a great mountain falls on you. The tears simply do not stop flowing, when the words are heard, "The daughter of my cousin and friend Shmuel Elimelech was murdered with terrible cruelty in Jerusalem.".
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How hard it is to hear that after about three years of expecting and waiting - everything, in one second, is crumbling before our eyes.
Then I gather myself and think about how one can possibly comfort a father and mother after such a terrible tragedy, when the baby flew to death before their eyes. Simply, how can one comfort?
Especially since all of his immediate family doesn't live in Israel, and we are his only family.
Immediately we travel, standing by him in the hour of great tribulation. Not a dry eye remained as the bed was covered with a tiny baby, a little doll, lying wrapped up.
The cries heard there will never be forgotten by anyone who attended the funeral.
The father says: We just wanted to show Zissel the Western Wall and the Temple Mount for the first time.
The mother and father cannot get into the car that is supposed to take them back home. They cannot see their house empty, without Zissel, without the girl who gave them the greatest joy in the house.
We just can't leave the house in the afternoon and go back to being a young couple.
Go home, pack up the chicken coop, the clothes, and that's it. There's no one else to get up at night to make a bottle.
