Now, just two hours before the sun set, ushering in that month of heightened, intensified spirituality, I was at a loss

I

’d frequented Rav Chaim Kanievsky’s home for many years, but my relationship with him became especially strong when the Rav finally acquiesced to having one of his seforim, Orchos Yosher, translated into English. While working on the translation, I began speaking to the Rav on a regular basis, to ensure it was as accurate as possible.

After the sefer was completed, I proceeded to translate other works of his, and we became very close. I would speak to him all the time. Callers from all over the world would ask me to forward their requests for brachos or eitzos to the Rav, and I was happy to do so.

Two hours before the dawn of Rosh Chodesh Elul this year, the loss of Rav Chaim hit me again with fresh pain. The Rav isn’t here! What would I do? He had always been my source of chizuk during Elul. I would go to him with lists of names of Yidden in need of yeshuos, and he would give his brachah or a unique, tailored segulah. It was a chizuk for me, it was a chizuk for Klal Yisrael. Now, just two hours before the sun set, ushering in that month of heightened, intensified spirituality, I was at a loss.