I can’t help it. I’d like to write about something else, but I can’t. I wish I could just share your basic, run of the mill inspirational Torah commentary this week, but my heart isn’t in it. I don’t really want to burden you with my own personal sorrow, but I have to talk about Erika, because ever since she died last Thursday, I have hardly thought of anything else.

Her amazing mother Susan who, as my wife Didi has said, created miracles of medical care for Erika on an “as need” basis for the past year birthed her into the world as an infant and with unbelievable courage birthed her out of the world as well. Late last Thursday morning as Erika lay in a seemingly agitated semi-conscious state, Susan lay down next to her and quietly whispered into her ear, “It’s OK Erika, your mother is here to help you. You can calm down, relax your breathing and let this body go now.” And she immediately did calm down and her breathing became slower, quieter, more gentle and deliberate.

Within a few minutes of her death, Didi and I were there as well – lying beside our beloved friends, sharing our own hugs, tears and prayers of goodbye with our sweet, sweet Erika. Though I have been witness to a number of deaths before in my life and work, this moment with Erika was a heart-rending experience like no other in my life.

And what could I say? I was immersed in my own grief, feeling my own loss and I knew all too well the wisdom of the Talmud when it says, “Do not comfort the bereaved when their dead lie before them.” At that moment words are irrelevant – the only thing that matters is the heart that is broken.

It was two and a half-hours of music and memories, laughter and tears and love that left us all exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. It was a reminder of what one person can accomplish in life just by the willingness to courageously confront life in all its pain and sorrow with tenderness and love.

In fact shortly before she died, Erika Whitmore Godwin, that sweet beloved young woman taught me a lesson more poignant and powerful than any sermon that I have ever given. It was simple and direct and memorable, and was the meaning she was able to pluck from the cauldron of this year of pain and struggle. One day not too long ago when speaking about what this experience had taught her about the meaning of life, this is what she said: “Remember that life is precious, love is all that really matters, and who we are in the end – and how we’ve touched the lives of others – is the legacy we leave behind.”

Erika understood that loving and being loved is ultimately what matters most of all in life and that every single person we know and every person we meet can be a reminder like the Torah portion’s fringe. I decided the best way that I can honor her legacy every day, is simply to love the people in my life and let them be that reminder to me every single day that it is ultimately through giving love to others that we discover our true holiness.