The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

When Syliva Rubin* arrived at the assisted living complex, her sole emotion was loneliness.

At 61, Syliva had made the cut to be granted the privilege of being part of the facility; however, the last thing she felt was privileged.

She was consumed with a sense of misery and melancholy.

Sylvia was younger than every other resident. 

She did not see anyone who was under seventy.

Despite her relative youth, after the passing of her husband, coupled with her own struggles, she was forced to move to the facility.

Yet, as the first Shabbos arrived, loneliness was her only companion.

As she entered the Shul, numerous walkers were seen, and more than a few women were wheelchair users.

As she reached for her Siddur, she could not help but notice how many large-print Siddurim there were.

The presence of many aides added to Sylvia's sense of isolation.

As the time for Hagbah arrived and scarcely any woman stood, Sylvia's spirits sank even further, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

At that moment, Mati Kuggelman* noticed Sylvia's tears and felt her loneliness.

Mati looked younger than her true age of seventy.

Immediately after davening, Mati sprung into action.

Mati reached out to Sylvia with a warm Good Shabbos and insisted Sylvia join her at the kiddush.

Thus began a three-year relationship that not only allowed Sylvia to survive in her new-found community but was the catalyst for Sylvia to thrive in a way she could never imagine.

She and Mati became inseparable.

They attended the Rabbi's weekly Parsha class.

And they were the first on the dance floor for Israeli dance night.

Mati became Sylvia's confidant and constant companion.

They walked the mile path surrounding the facility every morning and then had coffee at the clubhouse.

Mati convinced Sylvia she was needed at the facility and that her younger age was an asset as she could assist others who were not as mobile.

In a short time, Sylvia's entire outlook had changed.

She no longer viewed herself as an outlier and misfit who did not belong.

Rather, she felt, along with her friend Mati, as being granted the opportunity by Hashem to help others who were less able to navigate life at the facility.

Yet, Sylvia never knew Mati's true medical condition.

On Motzei Pesach, the news reached Sylvia that her savior and dear friend Mati had passed away on Acharon Shel Pesach.

Sylvia was devastated.

At the levaya, Sylvia sat and listened to Mati's son speak about his mother.

She was shocked as Mati's son mentioned how his mother had filled every day of her seventy-three years with Chessed.

Sylvia could not believe what she had heard and began to sob uncontrollably.

Mati's son, hurried to Sylvia's side.

He reassured Sylvia that his mother cherished their relationship and thanked Sylvia for being his mother's best friend.

As he tried his best to console her, Sylvia, amidst her sobbing, kept saying, "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?" asked Mati's son.

"When your mother first met me, I told her how lonely I felt being younger than everyone else.

Your mother convinced me I was not alone and all would be fine.

I told her, "How will all be fine? I am the only woman here below 65?"

Your mother looked me straight in the eyes.

I still remember how she paused and told me the words that changed my outlook and made me feel whole and at peace.

She said, "Sylvia, You are not alone. I, too, feel the same isolation as you. I may look a bit older, but I am also under 65; I am just sixty-two and share your pain."

I now know the truth.

I now know Mati was really 70.

We know that for the sake of Shalom, one can"change" their words.

And those "changed" words of Mati uttered with such sincerity and love gave me the greatest gift of all, Shalom, peace, in my heart.

Those words, which "changed" Mati's age from 70 to 62, changed my life.

And that is why I cry for her. She saved my life. "