Last year, at the age of 80, I asked the Four Questions at our Passover Seder. My older sister and my neighbor are 82 and 86, respectively, so I was the youngest there.

The night before the Seder, I was awakened by the sound of crashing. I jumped up and looked out the window but didn’t see any cars or trucks hit on the street. I searched on for what prayers to say following thunder. I felt as if G‑d was sending me a message: Crashes inevitably disturb our lives, and they remind us to pay attention to those we love.

I decided to buy flowers for the Seder, as I used to do long ago. I bought eight yellow lilies, one for each day of the holiday. I cut the stems at an angle, put them in warm water and placed them near the three candlesticks.

The whole family was due to be together, but our plans had to change since my grandson came down with Covid. Instead, my sister, Rifka, was joining me. She also loves flowers. Since she has red hair, her late husband used to give her red roses on her birthday. My husband, Adam, of blessed memory, would bring me yellow roses or tulips.

Sara, a neighbor, told me that she was planning to be alone, so I invited her to come. She reads Hebrew fluently and would be a welcome addition.

As I set the table, I remembered Adam’s last Seder. Adam used to prepare a Seder plate with all its symbolism for each man at the table. Anyone who wanted had a chance to read from the Haggadah, in English or Hebrew. Adam would read the Passover Haggadah in Hebrew, stopping only when the Seder required anyone else to speak. The rest of the time we just listened.

When Rifka arrived early, she brought with her compote and the Haggadahs. Using her cane due to a recent fall on the ice, Sara arrived and sat at the head of the table. She conducted the Seder in Hebrew and English.

When the time came, I was the one who recited the Four Questions. It had been a great while since I was the youngest at a Seder table. When I was 4, I asked the questions at my mother’s parents’ house. Leaning on his pillows, Zaydie Louis sat at the end of several tables spread out over the living room and into the dining room.

Our family sat at the end near the kitchen so that Mom would be able to help with the serving. At those Seders, I had four cousins older than me and several younger, but none who were yet able to read. So I read loudly and proudly.

I was also the youngest at the house of my father’s father, Zaydie Joe. Zaydie Joe read quickly since he had been educated in Ukraine to be a rabbi before he escaped to America. He listened and praised me for how well I read the Hebrew words. A few years later, my younger cousin recited the Four Questions.

At our Seder, we opened the door for Elijah, then finished with the taste of matzah in our mouths. We then reminisced and discovered that Sara went to school with Burt, my sister’s late husband. The Jewish world is so small and interconnected.

Usually, when seniors get together, they mention their challenges. Sara had fallen and hoped there would be a time when she no longer needed to use the cane.

My sister, who had an emergency pacemaker, prayed it would help.

I worried about having to have more Mohs surgery on my face from squamous-cell skin cancer.

The family will continue to have Seders for generations to come as future generations and past generations come together.

“Every generation, a person is obligated to see himself as if he, too, left Egypt” (Passover Haggadah). Just as G‑d took our forefathers out of Egypt, He can take us out of our current constriction and challenge.

Maybe the message of the Passover Seder is to have faith that G‑d will be with us, no matter what happens.

Next year, G‑d willing, may we celebrate in Jerusalem!