Thoughts on the death of a child

BNEI BRAK, Israel — Maor Cohen is a highly sensitive man who is known at Ezer Mizion as Mr. Lego. He raises the spirits of both children and adults battling life-threatening diseases with his Lego Workshop in addition to his hospital visits to those who cannot attend the workshop. Many have asked how he manages to create deep relationships that are too often broken when his ‘lego-friends’ leave this world.

By Maor Cohen

On Sunday, you were beginning treatment.

We arranged that I would come.

An event that I’m responsible for is stretching out longer than expected, and I’m thinking of you.

It’s already 10:30 PM.

I send a text message to your mother: “Does it still make sense for me to come?”

She replies that she thinks it would be better tomorrow.

A minute goes by, and she calls. “Maor, come now. Ophir wants you.”

11:30 PM. I’m sitting next to you. You ask me to tell you what’s in the Lego kit I brought you.

You plan how you’ll build it, and I enjoy planning it with you. Making plans implies a future.

Today, your soul departed and went to Heaven.

I am left here, to miss

your engaging smile,

your wise look,

your soft voice,

your desire to create,

your enthusiasm as we build together,

the special way you entered my heart,

the phone calls before each treatment,

your very special Ima and Abba,

who became like family to me.

Ophir, you went through days that were not at all simple.

And all you wanted was to live.

The moments I spent with you are engraved in my heart

and will stay with me forever.

No words can bring solace,

but there is great comfort in having known you.

You will always remain in my heart.

Watch over me from up there, please.

Rest, little sister, rest.

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Preceding provided by the Ezer Mizion organization in Israel