I had been to the facility more than a dozen times. Therefore I was a little confused when I walked down the hallway I believed her to be on and did not see her name. It is not unusual for me to become a little disoriented as I see many white hallways a day.

I stopped a woman who obviously worked there and asked where Mrs. S’s room was located. Her response was, “Have you spoken to a nurse?” And that is when I knew my resident had died. It had happened two days ago.

After thanking her I proceeded to my car but not without that internal jolt of pain. I almost stopped but forced myself to keep walking. I didn’t know if I was going to hurt as she was a tough, tough resident. While she seemed frail she had often hollered at me for one thing or another.

She no longer went to meals and could no longer do simple acts for herself. When I visited, she regaled me with stories of how she owned the facility. Yet, after my seven month “sabbatical” overseas, she spoke to me without missing a beat. She remembered where I had moved and the age of my child.

I have never met her family and probably never will. When I conduct Erev Shabbat services this week, I am going to hold her memory in my heart and say Kaddish. In part, I will recite these sacred words for her soul and, in part, for that aching void in my heart.