I can't believe that I only have five pictures of Gavy and Rivky, in total, and three of them are blurry (!) because most of the time I spent with them was on Shabbat. I expected to have many more years to visit them and take pictures together. I was working and living in India on a two year assignment when I met them. I am not Chabad, not Orthodox, but I am somewhat observant and practice what I can, where I can. I went to the synagogue in Mumbai whenever I could.

I still remember so clearly meeting Gavy for the first time in the Knesset Eliyahu synagogue. I was so surprised and happy that Chabad had made it to India. I and a guy who I had never met before (and never saw again) were their first Shabbat guests. Rivky and Gavy had just arrived, and were still in a small hotel room, but eager to share with us. They didn't yet have access to kosher foods except for cans, so we ate tuna out of a can and some salads Rivky had prepared beautifully. They were both so full of enthusiasm and spirit, and people naturally gravitated toward them. I remember holding their son, their firstborn, and it was already clear he would be facing many challenges, poor little one. But Rivky and Gavy never let their troubles weigh them down, and they inspired me every time I saw them. I began going to their house often, about every other week, and usually brought whoever I could find with me.

Most of all, I loved chatting with Rivky in the kitchen when they moved to the top floor of the hotel at the end of the street, down from the Taj on the waterfront. We shmoozed as I helped her (and the nanny Sandra) bring out the many, many dishes she would eventually serve. I always felt I had a home away from home with them. Rivky and Gavy brought to life the community around them, they were the spark that lit the fire under the Jewish community, and people came from everywhere to gather at their home.

It was amazing what they gave up to be there and bring their love of G‑d to us—how they had to ritually slaughter and prepare their own chickens and even goats, from what I recall. They dealt with culture shock and heat and the pain of their children's illness, and yet always had a kind word and the time to listen to others' stories.

Rivky sat by me when I had an operation in India. It was scary, not because it was a big operation, but mostly because I was alone in a land far from home. Having her pray for me as I went in made me feel that everything would be alright and that all was right with the world. I had no idea that years later the world would become very, very wrong.

I was so confident they would always be there, there or somewhere else in the world, doing mitzvot, that I hadn't even been in touch in a while, though I missed them.

As I watched the horror unfurl on Thursday, I felt a sinking sadness as I realized that they may not come out alive. I had guests to my home that Shabbat evening, Jewish and non-Jewish, Indonesians and Americans. Although my friends said they would understand if I canceled, I wanted us to do Shabbat in their honor, and we prayed together for Gavy and Rivky.

Like everyone else in the world, I was crushed to hear of their demise. I began reaching out blindly in pain to all of our shared friends and got back in contact with friends around the world—Argentina, Israel, India, the US. And I realized, that even in the World to Come Rivky and Gavy are still bringing us all together.

As I went over and over the events – as we all did – thinking too much and feeling helpless, my husband suggested to me that we host another Shabbat dinner, this time a larger one, in memory of Rivky and Gavy. We hosted a Shabbat dinner at a club in Indonesia—30 people came, Jews and non-Jews. They expressed their solidarity and determination to fight terror with the kind of love and compassion that Rivky and Gavy embodied.

And my friend told me about the place on chabad.org to share memories—this is so essential and helpful to so many of us who are mourning their loss. And it's also a way to reach out, I hope, to Rivky and Gavy's parents, and to little Moshele, may he be protected and blessed—because I want to let them know what they know already: that this world was a better place for many because Rivky and Gavy were in it.

Their tragic end only made more apparent how vital their gracious, loving spirits are to the world, how important the work they were doing was, Chabad's work to bring unity and G‑d's light to the Jewish community and to the downtrodden in every community around the world. Their strength is needed even more desperately in a world in which such evil could take them physically – but not spiritually, not emotionally – from it.

I pray that their families will find comfort in the love and appreciation of others for their children which is pouring in from around the world, in the same way that I write from Indonesia today. Rivky and Gavy will go on in our hearts and will continue to inspire others to come closer to G‑d – and to each other – no matter where in the world they live.