UNITED STATES

I held you, Eli. I touched your fingers. I saw your face. And then I let you go.

No words could prepare me for the ache. I am a Jewish woman who believes in blessing and lament, and in those weeks after your birth I lived in both. I cried in the mikveh. I wept through Psalm 139. I lit a candle and asked God why you were allowed to die.

But I also found healing—through Miriam’s gentle counseling, through the synagogue vigil, and through this tribute. I’ve chosen to remember you not just with tears but with prayer. You are my son. You are part of our family’s story. You are named. You are loved.

Love Mum, Dad, and Emma