I wished I could make Yom Tov feel a little more yontifdig. But I couldn’t get into the right mood

Tenth grade was over. Somehow, I made it through the year with decent grades. Now I was sitting on my bed trying to get myself to pack for camp. It was hard to believe that just a year ago, as far as we knew, my mother was healthy. A year ago as I packed for camp, she came in to help me and we ended up giggling like crazy together. A year ago... It seemed like a different lifetime.

I cried so much. Many times I was sure that my tear ducts had finally dried up. But each Yom Tov that came left me sobbing uncontrollably. When Yehudah lit those Chanukah candles, I couldn’t believe Mommy wouldn’t be sitting by the menorah for the next half hour, davening her heart out. It was hard to believe that everyone seemed so happy when Adar rolled around. Didn’t they know that life had no more joy? And Pesach was one epic disaster. Baila tried making Pesach with her three little kids. She was stressed out. I tried to help as much as I could but it was never enough for her. I couldn’t believe that we ended up yelling at each other. As Pesach neared, her mother convinced her that she needed a break and they should go there for Pesach. So they did. That left Simcha, Chaim, and me to kind of figure it out.