Hello and Goodbye

One of the unusual aspects of living six thousand miles away from most of your family is the fact that you only get to really know your younger relatives when they’re 18 years old and come to learn in Israel (if you’re lucky).

We first had the privilege of serving as a home away from home for my husband’s brother Avrohom. He and my husband were already close, but they got to bond again over long Shabbos meals and during weekday lunches when he’d drop by to do his laundry. He was followed by Shmuli, whom we enjoyed for four pleasant years.

A year later, we welcomed Miri, my youngest sister-in-law. While we’d spent time with her whenever we visited, those trips were a blur of people and whatever simchah we’d come for; they didn’t lend themselves to DMCs. Of course we knew her, but we didn’t truly know her.

Miri joined us for nearly every Yom Tov and many Shabbosim. Each Thursday, I’d work late and she’d take the kids to the park. My husband would help her with her reports, the kids enjoyed seeing her photos, and we’d schmooze about kollel, and Eretz Yisrael, and life. By the time she left, our relationship was richer and deeper.