Published in the Nshei Chabad Newsletter (Shvat 5775/February 2015)
Twenty-one years ago, my mother gave birth to a baby boy. After just a day and a half in this world, his precious soul was returned to its Creator. Before his burial, he was named Moshe Daniel.
Just over a year later, my mother was once again about to give birth, this time to twin boys. The doctors informed my mother that the younger and smaller of the twins would not survive the birth. Yet miracles happened and he was born alive: sick and only 2.1 pounds, but alive. That tiny baby was me.
I have always felt, ever since my early childhood, that I am a reincarnation of Moshe Daniel. At many milestones, I felt like I was living life for him. I feel that I am a “comfort child” that Hashem gave to my parents: being born exactly a year later; being the second, unexpected twin; also expected to pass away, yet given life.
Even before anyone told me about my brother, I felt a strong connection to him. He was my diary, my mentor, my friend. He guided me, protected me, taught me, and cared for me. I have always counted him amongst my siblings, and to me, he was very much a part of the family.
As soon as I found out about his existence (when I was about seven years old), I dreamt of praying by his grave. Regardless of the fact that the gravesite is unmarked, I longed to go there and connect with my brother.
After twelve years of waiting, I found out that my oldest sister had remembered where in the cemetery Moshe Daniel was buried. (She never said anything because she thought the rest of the family knew.) So I asked her to take me to the site.
On Rosh Chodesh Kislev 5775, the Sunday between his 21st birthday and yahrtzeit and my own 20th birthday, we went there.
As I reached the small area that was where all those less than 30 days old are buried, I just sensed where he was and dropped to the floor sobbing. Our souls touched.
The following poem is dedicated to you, my dear brother and soul mate, Moshe Daniel Roetter:
A mound of dirt, you are buried below,
No headstone, no marker, not even a stone.
I caress the grass so tenderly,
As my soul reconnects to you.
Oh my dear brother Moshe,
How I wish I could have seen your smile.
Oh my dear brother Daniel,
How I wish I could have heard your laugh.
Oh my dear brother Moshe Daniel,
How I wish I could have grown up together with you.
For twenty years, I have only felt your presence,
Now, finally today, we can connect.
On this tiny hill, so simple and pure,
That is where our souls reunite.
Oh my dear brother Moshe,
How I wish you could have been at my bar mitzvah.
Oh my dear brother Daniel,
How I wish you could have danced at family weddings.
Oh my dear brother Moshe Daniel,
How I wish you could have added to our parents’ nachas.
I know that you look down each day,
And smile at each of our siblings’ achievements.
When we laugh together, you chime in,
My life is your life, that’s how it has always been.
Oh my dear brother Moshe,
How I wish you could live life for yourself.
Oh my dear brother Daniel,
How I wish we weren’t so far apart.
Oh my dear brother Moshe Daniel,
How I wish that I could see you just one time.
Tears soak the ground as I say your Psalm,
Softly, I retell our life tale.
Suddenly, the rope connecting us is pulled taut,
You must return to G-d’s Throne; our time is up.
Oh my dear brother Moshe,
I promise I will make you proud.
Oh my dear brother Daniel,
I promise I will live our life to the fullest I can.
Oh my dear brother Moshe Daniel,
I promise I will keep you forever in my heart.
Slowly, I back away,
The hill grows even smaller in the distance.
Yet the connection is not completely severed,
You and I will forever be attached.
