The lupines on the two sides of the barely discernable path are darker than the ones I remember from last year, perhaps because a small cloud his blocking the sun’s rays, or because rain and chill winds prevented us from getting here on recent Saturdays, causing us to miss the blooms at their height. Or perhaps the reason is that the approaching Pesach holiday brings us closer to the season of our inner darkness, the affliction of losing our son read the rest (in English or in Hebrew) on Substack
Niot’s memory helps Israeli teenagers with learning difficulties through The Niot Project .
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Previous meditations about Niot:
Meditation: The clouds of grief.
The Anemone’s Smile
Meditation: A flower remind me of my son’s smile, nine years after his death.
Meditation: Remembering my son Niot z”l
Four Waterfalls, One Hidden
Meditation: Seven years without my son, Niot.
Third Day of Spring
Meditation: Planting flowers at my son’s grave.
The Day of His Birth
Meditation: On the death of my son.
A Him to him
Meditation: A letter to Bach on the loss of my son.
Meditation: The Seder, chamber music, and the death of my son.
Meditation: Mourning my son, four years later
Meditation: When a child dies, he becomes incessantly present.
Grasping the Void
Meditation: Five years without my son