I lost a friend last
month. His name was Moshe and he was 38 years old when he died suddenly. I
thought of him like a brother.
I hadn’t seen him in a
while, and then I ran into him in the shuk a couple of weeks before his death.
I had finished my shopping and I lingered for a minute by the displays outside
a jewelry shop. He spotted me and came over to say hello. I was happy to see
him, happy for the accident of timing that let our paths cross.
