A Daughter’s Memory

Posted on Monday, 5, December, 2022Wednesday, 2, August, 2023 by Rabbi

She was traveling to far away places, trying to find herself. She had a loving family and could not wait to tell them of her adventures. One day she received a letter from her mother that forever changed her life. Her father died in a tragic accident.

She sat devasted thinking, she was too young to be without a father, and yet she was.

He was too young to die, and yet he did.

All the answers to all the questions she hadn’t asked him, were now lost forever, because she believed he would always be there for her

She closed her eyes and in her mind’s eye she saw him, old but never frail, many years from now, always ready whenever she needed him to console her, advise her, disapprove of her latest boyfriend.

Instead, she found herself journeying back home, unable to stem the flow of tears that seemed to come without her even realizing it half the time.

she cried constantly, not eating because in her grief she wasn’t hungry. It seemed the closer she got to home the darker the world became, and she cried more.

The sun was out in full force, such a lovely day it angered her, it should have been pelting down with rain, hail, thunder, something to match the storm going on inside, but nothing, and so she cried some more.

People gathered in full force to come and say goodbye, and she saw people she never knew crying for beloved father, so many people, the casket was lowered into the grave and her heart seemed to sink into the earth at the moment. She was so glad for the many people that shared this pain with her, it is so heavy upon her shoulders she needed others to carry her for a while.

In the days after the funeral, the fog of grief and sadness slowly cleared and she began to feel like herself. At times, she was angry at him for leaving, even though he never wanted to leave. Mostly, she was angry at herself for letting so many so many opportunities to spend time with her father, learn from him, talk to him.

She won’t get another chance to do so, but she can still hear him talk to her, she knows what he would say when she makes unwise decisions or when she just needs advice. Her father’s voice now has more authority than ever, because she has a debt to pay to him, she owes him big time.

A thing like this rips your heart. It is unexplainable in words alone, unless you have been there yourself. A person can imagine the pain of losing someone they love, but reality surpasses all imagination, and how she wishes it wasn’t so.

Her father loved to talk, discuss, and teach, he would get you into a conversation and before you knew it was the wee hours of the morning, your cheeks burning, your mouth yawning but your mind still racing to keep up with him and his arguments.

Her father taught her to question things, to not take anything for granted, to strive to be a better person, and she wanted to tell you he was here, sorry you missed him…

May all your tales end with Shalom (Peace)

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A Pencil Box and Child Awareness of Death

Posted on Wednesday, 25, May, 2022Wednesday, 25, May, 2022 by Rabbi

I was deep in thought at my office, preparing a lesson to be given that evening at a community center across town, when the telephone rang. A woman I had never met introduced herself and said that she was the mother of a seven-year-old and that she was dying. She said that her counselor had advised her that discussing her pending death with her son would be too traumatic for him, but somehow that didn’t feel right to her.

Knowing that I worked with grieving children, she asked my advice. I told her that our heart is often smarter than our brain and that I thought she knew what would be best for her son. I also invited her to attend the lesson that night since I was speaking about how children cope with death. She said she would be there.

In today’s society, death is a frightening topic to be avoided at all costs. It is banished from the psyches and the home, and placed firmly out of sight into hospital rooms, hospices, and funeral homes. The Angel of Death is an unwelcome visitor whose presence many try so hard to ignore. Many therapists and counselors sadly leave death and the topics surrounding it shrouded in dark, fearful mystery.

I wondered later if I would recognize the woman at the lesson, but my question was answered when I saw a weak woman being half carried into the room by two adults. I talked about the fact that children usually sense the truth long before they are told and that they often wait until they feel adults are ready to talk about it before sharing their concerns and questions. I said that children usually can manage truth better than denial, even though the denial is intended to protect them from pain. I said that respecting children meant including them in the family sadness through grieving and mourning, not shutting them out.

The woman had heard enough. At the break, she hobbled to the front of the room and through her tears she said, “l knew it in my heart. I just knew I should tell him.” She said that she would tell him that night.

The next morning, I received another phone call from her.

She could hardly talk but I managed to hear the story through her choked voice. She woke her son up when they got home from the lesson and quietly said, “David, I have something to tell you.” He quickly interrupted her saying, “Oh, Mommy, is it now that you are going to tell me that you are dying?” She held him close, and they both cried while she said, “Yes.”

After a few minutes, the little boy wanted to get down. He said that he had something for her that he had been saving. In the back of one of his drawers was an old pencil box. Inside the box was a letter written in simple scrawl. It said, “Good-bye, Mommy. I will always love you.

How long he had been waiting to hear the truth, I don’t know. I do know that two days later Mom died. In her casket was placed the old pencil box and a letter.

May your memories be a blessing that lead you to shalom (Peace)

For more grief and mourning resources for adults and children including prayers and meditations, Stories to Console, and activities for children

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

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A Daughter’s Memory

Posted on Wednesday, 26, January, 2022Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

I was slowly eating breakfast at the college cafeteria when my father died on a remote trail, on the other side of the country.

He loved hiking trails and being outside, but I didn’t even know until two days later. With a busy class schedule and studying in the library I had forgotten to check my phone. When I finally managed to recharge my phone, I and saw all the missed calls and text messages.

My mother told me over the phone, such terrible news. I was so unprepared for such news. I am too young to be without a father, and yet here I sit so devastated.

My father lived through a war, was always willing to help others and taught people of all ages and yet he was gone.

All the answers to all the questions I hadn’t asked him yet, now lost forever, because I assumed he would always be there.

In my mind’s eye, I had seen him, old but never frail, many years from now, still ready whenever I needed him to console me, advise me, disapprove of my boyfriends. Instead, I found myself rushing back home, unable to stop the flow of tears that seemed to come without me even realizing it half the time.

I cried all the way back home, I cried my tears as meals were left untouched, I cried until it was time to say goodbye.

The sun was high in the sky, such a day that he would go hiking or fishing. I was so angry, it should have been raining, something to match the tears welling up in my eyes and so I cried some more.

People gathered I had never seen before came to say goodbye, and I heard others crying for him. The casket was draped with a flag, some of his veteran friends came and gently folded it and gave it to me. I was numb and my heart was breaking. I was so glad for the many people that shared this sadness with me, it is so heavy upon my shoulders I needed others to carry me for a while.

In the time after we said our goodbyes, my emotions went from one place to another. At times, I was angry at him for leaving, even though he never wanted to leave. Mostly, I was angry at myself for letting slip past so many opportunities to spend time with him, learn from him, talk to him.

I would never get another chance to do so, but I can still hear him talk to me. I know what he would say when I was challenged by life, his voice now has more authority than ever, because I now realize that he was more often right than I would admit.

A thing like this breaks your heart. It is beyond words, something that cannot be explained unless you have been there yourself. No one can imagine the pain of losing someone you love, but reality surpasses all imagination, and how I wish it wasn’t so.

My father loved to cook and he would tell such stories at the table. Everyone would become lost in the magic he wove and the lessons of the stories that before you knew it, it was the wee hours of the morning and everyone wanted more.

He taught me to a lot, yet kept many secrets. His wisdom may live on in me and I try to be a better person. He was here and touched so many people and I want you to know he lives on in his stories.

May his stories bring you peace.

Click here for more storytelling resources

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

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The Water Carrier – A Tale from Aleppo

Posted on Monday, 9, September, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The sky was a sad gray. Rain poured down from the heavens and a cold wind blew from the east, chilling everyone to the bone. The Chevra Kadisha (burial Society) was escorting the body of the town’s water carrier, to his final resting place in the cemetery.

For thirty years, the water carrier would carry two buckets on his shoulders, and walk down the hill to draw water from the river. He would then slowly make his way back up the hill, with the heavy weight on his shoulders, and deliver this water to the people in the village. He did this each day, year after year, in order to earn enough money to feed his family.

Looking out his window, the young Chacham (rabbi) was surprised to see his aged father outside in the wet weather, accompanying the water carrier’s levaya (funeral procession).

Later that evening, the young chacham said to his father, “I was very surprised to see you walking the whole way to the cemetery and stay for the whole funeral. I know how busy you are, and how hard it is for you to get away from the bet midrash (house of study).”

“Do not be surprised, my son,” his father answered. “When the funeral procession passed by the bet midrash, I saw thousands of angels singing Tehillim (Psalms) with beautiful voices. Singing in the center of all the angels was a tall majestic figure, larger than the rest, who appeared to be David haMelech (King David). How could I not accompany them?”

But why would a simple water carrier, be accompanied to his grave by David haMelech and so many angels singing Tehillim? thought the young chacham. What was so special about him? That night, he prayed to Hashem to reveal to him the secret of the water carrier.

In the middle of that same night, the water carrier came to the young chacham in a dream. “It is true,” he explained, “in your world I was, indeed, a very simple man.

I could neither read or write. But, as a child, I learned the entire first Sefer of Tehillim (book of Psalms) by heart. Each day after work, I would recite the entire first Sefer in the bet midrash. I could say it slowly with very deep feelings. That is why I merited such a special honor. David haMelech who wrote the Tehillim came to my funeral with the angels that I created through my daily reading of Tehillim.”

The young chacham learned a very important lesson – the power of prayer, even for a very simple man.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

Grief and Mourning resources for adults and children including thoughts and meditations, stories, and crafts

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

New – Listen to the stories every Wednesday evening on the Story Tour Podcast on

Google Play or ITunes

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30

She was traveling to far away places, trying to find herself. She had a loving family and could not wait to tell them of her adventures. One day she received a letter from her mother that forever changed her life. Her father died in a tragic accident.

She sat devasted thinking, she was too young to be without a father, and yet she was.

He was too young to die, and yet he did.

All the answers to all the questions she hadn’t asked him, were now lost forever, because she believed he would always be there for her

She closed her eyes and in her mind’s eye she saw him, old but never frail, many years from now, always ready whenever she needed him to console her, advise her, disapprove of her latest boyfriend.

Instead, she found herself journeying back home, unable to stem the flow of tears that seemed to come without her even realizing it half the time.

she cried constantly, not eating because in her grief she wasn’t hungry. It seemed the closer she got to home the darker the world became, and she cried more.

The sun was out in full force, such a lovely day it angered her, it should have been pelting down with rain, hail, thunder, something to match the storm going on inside, but nothing, and so she cried some more.

She won’t get another chance to do so, but she can still hear him talk to her, she knows what he would say when she makes unwise decisions or when she just needs advice. Her father’s voice now has more authority than ever, because she has a debt to pay to him, she owes him big time.

A thing like this rips your heart. It is unexplainable in words alone, unless you have been there yourself. A person can imagine the pain of losing someone they love, but reality surpasses all imagination, and how she wishes it wasn’t so.

Her father loved to talk, discuss, and teach, he would get you into a conversation and before you knew it was the wee hours of the morning, your cheeks burning, your mouth yawning but your mind still racing to keep up with him and his arguments.

Her father taught her to question things, to not take anything for granted, to strive to be a better person, and she wanted to tell you he was here, sorry you missed him…

May all your tales end with Shalom (Peace)

Read more Stories to Console and for more Grief and Mourning resources for adults and children including thoughts and meditations, stories, and crafts

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

The woman had heard enough. At the break, she hobbled to the front of the room and through her tears she said, “l knew it in my heart. I just knew I should tell him.” She said that she would tell him that night.

The next morning, I received another phone call from her.

After a few minutes, the little boy wanted to get down. He said that he had something for her that he had been saving. In the back of one of his drawers was an old pencil box. Inside the box was a letter written in simple scrawl. It said, “Good-bye, Mommy. I will always love you.

How long he had been waiting to hear the truth, I don’t know. I do know that two days later Mom died. In her casket was placed the old pencil box and a letter.

May your memories be a blessing that lead you to shalom (Peace)

For more grief and mourning resources for adults and children including prayers and meditations, Stories to Console, and activities for children

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

I was slowly eating breakfast at the college cafeteria when my father died on a remote trail, on the other side of the country.

He loved hiking trails and being outside, but I didn’t even know until two days later. With a busy class schedule and studying in the library I had forgotten to check my phone. When I finally managed to recharge my phone, I and saw all the missed calls and text messages.

My mother told me over the phone, such terrible news. I was so unprepared for such news. I am too young to be without a father, and yet here I sit so devastated.

My father lived through a war, was always willing to help others and taught people of all ages and yet he was gone.

All the answers to all the questions I hadn’t asked him yet, now lost forever, because I assumed he would always be there.

I cried all the way back home, I cried my tears as meals were left untouched, I cried until it was time to say goodbye.

The sun was high in the sky, such a day that he would go hiking or fishing. I was so angry, it should have been raining, something to match the tears welling up in my eyes and so I cried some more.

In the time after we said our goodbyes, my emotions went from one place to another. At times, I was angry at him for leaving, even though he never wanted to leave. Mostly, I was angry at myself for letting slip past so many opportunities to spend time with him, learn from him, talk to him.

I would never get another chance to do so, but I can still hear him talk to me. I know what he would say when I was challenged by life, his voice now has more authority than ever, because I now realize that he was more often right than I would admit.

A thing like this breaks your heart. It is beyond words, something that cannot be explained unless you have been there yourself. No one can imagine the pain of losing someone you love, but reality surpasses all imagination, and how I wish it wasn’t so.

My father loved to cook and he would tell such stories at the table. Everyone would become lost in the magic he wove and the lessons of the stories that before you knew it, it was the wee hours of the morning and everyone wanted more.

He taught me to a lot, yet kept many secrets. His wisdom may live on in me and I try to be a better person. He was here and touched so many people and I want you to know he lives on in his stories.

May his stories bring you peace.

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

The sky was a sad gray. Rain poured down from the heavens and a cold wind blew from the east, chilling everyone to the bone. The Chevra Kadisha (burial Society) was escorting the body of the town’s water carrier, to his final resting place in the cemetery.

Looking out his window, the young Chacham (rabbi) was surprised to see his aged father outside in the wet weather, accompanying the water carrier’s levaya (funeral procession).

Later that evening, the young chacham said to his father, “I was very surprised to see you walking the whole way to the cemetery and stay for the whole funeral. I know how busy you are, and how hard it is for you to get away from the bet midrash (house of study).”

But why would a simple water carrier, be accompanied to his grave by David haMelech and so many angels singing Tehillim? thought the young chacham. What was so special about him? That night, he prayed to Hashem to reveal to him the secret of the water carrier.

In the middle of that same night, the water carrier came to the young chacham in a dream. “It is true,” he explained, “in your world I was, indeed, a very simple man.

The young chacham learned a very important lesson – the power of prayer, even for a very simple man.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Grief and Mourning resources for adults and children including thoughts and meditations, stories, and crafts

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

New – Listen to the stories every Wednesday evening on the Story Tour Podcast on

Google Play or ITunes

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others