Today’s memory is one of two, two times that I saw you actually happy.
It was Shabbat night and you were sitting across from me at the wooden, diningroom table. You were clean-shaven and wearing one of your big kippas. You were singing Bircat HaMazon and I was enjoying you. You got to the part that goes: oseh shalom bimromav, hu yaoseh shalom aleinu v’al kol yisrael, vimru amein”. You were singing it in the Yerushalmi tune that your grandfather taught you, you had your eyes closed, and you were bobbing your head from side to side just like Stevie Wonder! I swear, you were happy. I have the moment frozen in my mind like a prehistoric insect trapped in a bead of amber. Often I take that amber out, hold it up to the light, and enjoy you. Again and again. Sing it for me, Israel, sing it. I love to see you happy.