“I just wish people would have accepted me”
A s a rav I spend many hours visiting shivah homes. Invariably I leave a shivah home more inspired than when I entered and with valuable insights. It’s not unusual for me to feel that I’ve gained more from being menachem avel than the mourners I attempted to comfort.
Nevertheless when I arrived at Beryl’s home to console him over the loss of his brother Yanky I was somewhat skeptical as to what gems of wisdom I’d procure.
Yanky had passed away in his early sixties; he never married and seemed to be a loner. And Yanky’s day-to-day life was the most expectable life one could imagine.
Every morning Yanky woke at five and caught the 5:30 train to Hoboken. He then boarded the 6:10 PATH train which arrived at 33rd Street in Manhattan at exactly 6:30. Yanky would then take the D train two stops uptown to Rockefeller Center and exit on 47th Street.
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