A brief but powerful encounter

I read the submissions here and see entries from many people who knew Zlata OBM for many years and in numerous roles. I did not know her for very long nor in many ways; instead, I knew her as one of my younger son’s Hebrew School teachers (along with wonderful Rochie) for just this past school year. It became clear to me a short way into the year that Zlata was no ordinary human being. My son came home on Sundays “spent” in the most wonderful of ways, and it was clear that what he was getting from Zlata was far more than a simple lesson.

 

Then, one day, the mail carrier brought us an invitation to Rochie’s wedding. I was overwhelmed that we would be considered by Zlata to be worthy guests and was incredibly excited to be included. At the wedding, I felt, well, embraced. I began to feel very connected to Zlata even though logic would not explain why; I saw her for a few moments each Sunday when dropping off or picking up my son -- certainly not enough to delve into anything deeply, but somehow enough to share feelings and words that added to my connection to her and to Judaism. Until I met the Geisinsky family, I had felt satisfied with my level of observance; in those few short months, I watched, listened and learned. Through only her graceful example, Zlata encouraged me to do more. And I am.

 

In the days since Zlata’s passing, I have wondered numerous times how I, someone who didn’t know her nearly as well as others, could have the “right” to feel the deep sadness that is inside me. After all, I am not a family member, longtime friend, school colleague, or mikvah visitor. So, how could I be allowed to have such strong emotions? As I sit here in the clothes I wore to shiva minyan tonight with tears drenching my face, I know: she connected to me on a level that I cannot understand from my human mind, but only from my heart, which is so much wiser than the head. I know that I will carry her in my heart throughout my life. Zlata gave me the right to these feelings simply by being in my life.

 

I also know that my children will carry her; even my older son, who did not attend Chabad Hebrew School, sobbed at the news of Zlata’s passing. He’d met her less than a handful of times but had listened to me talk about her and all the Geisinskys. As for my younger one, this week he donned tzitzit for the first time. He has begun to make brachas over the foods he eats daily, no longer only on Shabbos. He came to Chabad with a spark in him, and it has clearly been fueled into an exquisite fire by his connection to Zlata and her family members, who clearly exemplify her ways.

 

To say that Zlata will be missed by those she touched is an extreme understatement – that is apparent by the numbers of people pouring into the Chabad house and by the postings to this blog. To say that I will simply miss her is an inappropriate characterization. She has impacted my life in ways that I imagine I will know more and more in the years to come, and for that I am eternally grateful.

 

To the Geisinsky family, I send my deepest condolences and the wish that they will know that the gift of having Zlata in their lives does not end as long as she lives in them. I know that such a thing will happen. Until Moshiach comes, it is all that we have.

 

Laura Nadel Eisen