Yisroel stood in the doorway, cheeks and nose bright red from the cold, snow encrusting his thick brown bangs. “My mother is still not here, and I’m frozen. Can I wait inside?”
During my eleven months of saying Kaddish, I ended up in various minyans from San Francisco to Halifax, but the phone call in New York was the start of what turned out to be perhaps the most interesting Kaddish experience of them all...