This past Shabbos something happened to remind me that I am never alone.
Like the time that I lost my mother when I was a young man in Yeshiva in Israel.
It was the loneliest experience I had ever known. So many people came to make Shiva calls, but although it served as a tremendous catharsis, it didn’t cure my strong sense of being alone in my mourning.
What was particularly painful was during Yizkor (the memorial service) when all my friends packed out, and I was left with people who were some 50 years my elder.
This feeling subsided a bit when I had the opportunity to Daven (pray) in various synagogues on holidays, when Yizkor is said.
When the uncomfortable Yizkor service came around, I noticed that younger kids than I were saying Kaddish.
I was struck by the knowledge that I was not alone. During that difficult year, I met a friend in New York. He softly said to me, “Welcome to the club.”
On Shabbos, we hosted a Shabbaton for 17 girls! After they had all washed their hands, I typed out, “Now you are all just like me!” Then I added, ” Welcome to my world!”
Yes indeed, we can always find a common denominator, whatever our situation.