Dear Rebbe,

I miss you.

I miss the live satellite hookups of your farbrengens that we would drive to the Hebrew Academy to watch. I remember when they put up the satellite dish special for the hookups.
The kids would play in the playground while the adults watched inside...I never understood a word of the yiddish but my mother was crying so I knew it was awesome.

I miss the rare occasions that I got to go to New York for a wedding or because it was "my turn". On Sundays I would put on my nicest weekday clothes and stand waiting hours in line for dollars. When we finally got in I would suddenly get so nervous and try to remember what I was going to say and that I must say “adaynk”.

I miss the excitement that my brothers used to have when they came home from Crown Heights with stories of yeshiva and farbrengens and living with the Rebbe.

I miss the fact that I have so few memories to miss.

Thank you.

Thank you for being our Rebbe.

Thank you for keeping us as your Chassidim even though we've probably disappointed you time and time again.

Thank you for giving us something higher to live for than ourselves and our own yiddishkeit.

Thank you for everything.

Everything.