Yaakov cleared his throat.

The rav looked up, a surprised smile brightening a face that seemed already deeply etched in mourning.

“I don’t want to bother you, Rav. You are so busy. Your office is full.”

“Yes, always full,” he murmured distractedly. “But come sit down a little, Yaakov. How are you?”

“Baruch HaShem,” he answered mechanically.

“Of course. Baruch HaShem. But tell me anyway.” The old man’s eyes sparkled almost mischievously for a moment.

“It is so hard to leave, Rav. I feel my heart is breaking.”

The rav seemed surprised.

Could he have forgotten that this was to be his last day? But before Yaakov could belabor this hurtful suspicion, the rav came around from behind his desk, taking both of Yaakov’s hands in his own.

“A beginning and an end. That is every day of our lives. That is what we have in common as human beings, Yaakov, every day of our lives. And to every ending, there is a new beginning.”

“I dreamed of a different life.”

“Yes, it is so hard to dream and live and not to find what we want. So much has been given to us, but somehow not what we want. There is always something missing, always something we could have had, should have had. We do not understand why God denies us these things; why He is deaf to our prayers.” The rav glanced out the window, his eyes suddenly unseeing. “We cannot understand, but that doesn’t mean our just and loving God doesn’t have His reasons. If we have faith, every experience we undergo in life, good or bad, will bring us closer to Him.”

“Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like that. Sometimes, it just feels like a punishment. It is so painful.”

“Yes, very painful,” the rav repeated, unseeing. “Like a burning, taking away all our impurities with it.”

Was that true? Yaakov wondered. Did suffering refine, or did it simply destroy? He didn’t know. But what he did know was that his life had undergone horrors that had ended in transformation, and in the end, he had found great joy. What he did know was that the future was unknown. What would it be like to wake up in the morning and take the subway to an office where not the words of Torah were spoken but only numbers? How much money was earned? How much was spent? At what profit? All of his days were already bartered and sold to this slavery. Out of this, he would have to do the impossible, squeeze out time for the glory of studying the word of God.

There would be compensations. When he came home, his children—well-dressed and well-fed—would be there to greet him, and his wife—his lovely wife, who gave meaning to his life, his beautiful Leah, who had helped him rise above his despair—would also be there waiting.