On the Zoom screen, I could see my mother start to cry. “You were being destroyed, Gershon,” she said softly. “I had to get you out of the situation. I know it hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
“Hi, Gershon!” she greeted me, in her usual cheerful tone. “How’s everything?”
Suddenly, I felt a powerful, inexplicable desire to see her. Since she lived far away, visiting her before Shabbos was not an option, so I asked her if we could switch to Zoom.
I’m a grown man, 36 years old, with a family of my own. But as soon as my mother’s face came up on the screen, I burst out crying.
“Do you remember that moment that you left me?” I said. “I live with it every day of my life.”
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