My mother recently passed away.
More recently, on another note, my 6th grandchild was born — a beautiful little girl whose parents have decided to call her Hodaiya Hannah.
The two connect because of a phone call I’ll never make.
Whenever any major event took place within my immediate Israeli family, I would immediately pick up the phone to share the news with my mother. But now I have no one to call.
On a day-to-day basis, I’m aware that my mother is no longer among the living, but it doesn’t penetrate to a more profound emotional sense of loss. It is in moments like this when I sit at my desk with the telephone in my hand that I am so painfully aware she is no longer there for me to call.
My one comfort is that in the last years of her life, several of my children we’re able to make the trip to visit their grandmother in that far-away distant country that she lived. There might have been 9000 km that separated us geographically, but I made every effort to let her know she was always in our thoughts and hearts. Even now, she still is.