His older brother was already married and his father who was recovering from heart surgery was unable to help. That left only Yitzchok and his mother to “make Pesach.”
For the Sedorim they would be walking about a half a mile to a nearby relative.
As Yitzchok and his mother cleaned and talked she told him stories about her mother and how they made Pesach in the Bronx in the 1930s.
At that time the Bronx was known as the “Jewish borough” with almost 50 percent of the total population Jewish.
Yitzchok could listen for hours as his mother regaled him with stories of Bubbe’s homemade chrein and how her knaidlach (matzah balls) were known along the entire Grand Concourse.
Yitzchok and his mother finished cleaning the house a few hours before bedikas chometz and after a thorough searching of the home he went to sleep with thoughts of how nice the Sedorim would be in the company of friends and family.
However as Yitzchok awoke on Erev Pesach he was shocked to discover that as he’d soundly slept Hashem had been busy at work. As he opened the door to head to shul he saw that the ground was already covered in snow and more was coming.
It would be too much for Yitzchok’s father to walk so the three of them would be spending the Seder at home.
Quickly Yitzchok and his mother started to prepare foods for the “unplanned” Seder.
That night as he returned from shul he looked at his parents and felt somewhat alone.
There were only the three of them. He recalled years past when his father was healthier and his mother was younger and 20 people crowded around the Seder table.
As they read the Haggadah Yitzchok’s father who was still fragile from his surgery began to fade and quietly retired for the night.
Yitzchok and his mother continued. However as they neared Dayeinu the effects of the last few weeks took their toll and his mother’s eyes began to close. Suddenly the threesome had turned into a solo performance.
Images of Sedorim of years past danced in his head; he recalled his father young and strong leading the Seder and the lively discussion that followed. He saw his mother and his departed bubbe checking on the knaidlach as the Seder progressed.
However now he was alone and as he sat at the table he felt a tear of sadness slipping down his cheek.
Suddenly he felt that although he was alone he was not lonely.
And although no one else was in the room he was not abandoned.
A feeling of quiet solace and comfort filled him.
Was it the realization that despite the fact that he was alone he had much to be thankful for — his parents were safe and warm and resting and there was peace in the house?
Or perhaps it was something more sublime and inexplicable?
Perhaps it was his sudden epiphany that no matter where you are and no matter who you are there is what to accomplish and “with whom” to bond?
Whatever the reason he began to sing; at first hesitantly and then with excitement and joy and he sang his way through the rest of the Seder.
And as he finished Chad Gadya he was filled with a special contentment that he had never felt before.
Many Pesachs have gone by since that solitary spiritual night decades ago.
Today Yitzchok leads the Seder surrounded by his wife children and grandchildren and many guests.
And although I hope to never have another “solo Seder” again as I recall that snowy night in Brooklyn over 30 years ago surrounded by me myself and He Who is always there a warm and nostalgic tear gently falls down my face.