“Why am I smiling instead of crying? Because emunah is simchah and simchah is emunah"
The Bnei Brak street where we are supposed to meet is deserted. The sun peeks out from the clouds, but the intermittent showers are keeping most people behind their doors.
My interviewee settles onto the bench beside me, smiles, and introduces herself, “I’m Doba’le Stern,” before launching into her story.
“I have no grandchildren and children,” she begins, “and I have no siblings or in-laws. My husband, Tuvia z”l, passed away almost a quarter of a century ago, and all of my extended family ‘disappeared’ in the Holocaust.”
“So, you’re… you’re basically here alone.” I talk slowly, searching for the right words.
Create a free account to keep reading.
