We talk almost every morning but this morning something is different — her pain is deeper. The silence in her house so profound all I hear are her birds in their cage.

“Help” she says. “This is too hard for me and I’m not doing well.”

Usually we lighten it. Commiserate on a common thing or two. Laugh a little.

Today she needs more.

“Say something” she begs.

“I don’t know what to say” I say in a way I hope doesn’t leave her hanging there alone but in the way that goes to the place of pain that has no mortal words.

“You hear the birds” she says “even they don’t stop fighting.”

I hear her sip coffee. It must be one of her ten cups a day.

“Yesterday I was at Kever Shmuel HaNavi he’s so dear.” She changes topics.

I think to myself how miraculous it is that she has to count out 10-agurot pieces to buy a loaf of bread but HaKadosh Baruch Hu takes her all over the country to visit kivrei tzaddikim. Last week she was near Amukah at the grave of Rav Elazar.

I believe she’s one of those who open portholes in Heaven with her prayers to bring light.

“Did I ever tell you?” she asks checking if over the years of phone conversations she’s gotten to this story “about the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s letter to a Holocaust survivor?”

I wonder how she got to the Lubavitcher Rebbe when she’s a staunch Litvack.

“No …” I say. The end of my sentence goes way up in wonder.

“Ohhhh wait. Let me find the paper.”

It takes her all of about three seconds.

“The Lubavitcher Rebbe” she says the Rebbe’s name with a sort of unfamiliarity unlike seasoned chassidim accustomed to calling their rebbe “The Rebbe” whether he is yours mine or ours.

“This is a letter I feel was written just for me. It’s translated from Yiddish. Ready?”

She begins to read:

It is very important to lead a good Yiddishe life everyday in spite of all the hardships that have been.

You have to do the maximum to build this life in the best way possible.

This is the battle.

You have to fight against all your sorrows. Remembering sorrows only causes pessimism and takes away all energies which stops you from building and planning for which you need confidence and happiness.

It is your role to fulfill this duty and have a great influence on your family.

The question arises: How can one demand that someone wipe out horrible memories? We see however that Yidden always have the will to overcome what at first sight seems so difficult. You have to fight back against all the hard things you have experienced to lead a normal Yiddishe life with children and grandchildren.

You might ask “How can one live a normal life?” The Jewish people have always had miracles. When a miracle needs to come it comes.

“The Rebbe”—she’s speaking now with familiarity—“ends the letter with a blessing.”

You should only have light the whole year and drive away the darkness with courage and stubbornness.

She repeats the points again.

“You should drive away the darkness with courage and stubbornness.

“This is the battle.”

I echo “This is the battle.”