My mom was asking me about defining characteristics of my brother this evening... So many things ran through my mind... So many accomplishments; so many times when my heart's swelled with pride-- playing the triangle at the Myerson, being 4th in his graduating class, getting into Wharton... but I don't think any of those things particularly define him.
Compassion. Compassion is what defines him. One of my favorite memories of him was when we were visiting the Taj Mahal. I remember looking for him exasperated; turning around and scanning the crowded garden. I looked up, and I realized that he was helping 3 men carry an old lady in a wheel chair down the steps of the entrance. I remember thinking how grownup he looked in that moment.
|These are the actual steps I remember. Source|
I started writing this post a few minutes after Ronak left my home. He gave me a huge hug and I watched him walk down our not-so-green lawn into the van.
It was surprisingly difficult to see him walk away. You feel a tug at the heart like the tug you feel when your kite is cut free from the string (or your brother's unruly dog slips his collar). One moment you feel the tension on the string, and in the next-- nothing. It's not painful exactly-- not even upsetting; but a mixture of happiness for his new independence and longing for closeness.
Roni, we wish the best for you and are so very proud of you and we love you so very, very much.