Don’t Wait Until It’s Too Late

Rabbi Tzvi Sytner shared the following incredible personal story recently.

Right after October 7th, Rabbi Sytner traveled to Israel with a group to meet families who had experienced unimaginable loss. One of those families was that of Donna Cohen, from a small southern kibbutz called Shlomit.

Donna sat surrounded by the group and began to speak.She told them that on the morning of October 7th, when the sirens went off, her husband Aviyad, a member of the kibbutz security team, did what he always did — he ran to protect others.

Shortly after, a message came through: terrorists were trying to infiltrate a nearby kibbutz, Pri Gan. Normally, each kibbutz looks after its own security, but Aviyad didn’t hesitate. He said, “Pri Gan is an older community — they’ll need help.”

He and a few friends jumped into a car and raced toward the threat. What they didn’t realize was that there wasn’t just one terrorist waiting — there was a full squad of Hamas gunmen.

A fierce gun battle broke out. Outnumbered and outgunned, they fought with everything they had.

Aviyad and his team stopped the terrorists from entering Pri Gan — saving the entire community.But Aviyad never came home.

Donna, a 40-year-old mother of six, shared two messages she wanted the world to hear.

First: “Be there for each other. No matter how different we are, unity is everything.”

And second: “Never wait until it’s too late to say the things that need to be said.”

She said softly, “If I had known that morning would be the last time I’d see my husband, there are things I would have said differently.”

That message stayed with Rabbi Sytner.

A few weeks later, he began a Father-and-Son Bar Mitzvah Program — forty fathers and sons learning and growing together. On the very first night, he shared Donna’s story and told the group:“Don’t wait until it’s too late to tell the people you love how much they mean to you.”

Then he handed out paper and pens.

Each father wrote a letter to his son, telling him why he loves him, what he admires about him, and what makes him special. Each son wrote to his father, expressing gratitude, love, or even saying “I’m sorry.”

The room fell silent. Dozens of fathers and sons sat side by side, writing in deep emotion. When they finished, they sealed their letters in envelopes — some to open that night, others to save for the future.

The following week, twenty minutes before the next session began, a father walked in early. He hadn’t been there the previous week. His expression was heavy.

He said quietly, “My father-in-law came instead, with my son Ryan.”Then he looked down and said, “My father-in-law passed away.”

Rabbi Sytner offered his condolences, but the man shook his head.“My wife and I actually wanted to thank you,” he said. “He hadn’t smiled in months. But that night, after the session, he came home smiling. He talked about his own bar mitzvah. He was alive again.”

Then he said, “We remembered the letter.”

They opened the sealed envelope, and inside were these words:

“Ryan, you are one of my favorite people in my life.

I love everything about you, the way you hug me, the way you tell me about your friends. You’ve made my life 100% better with your smile and your jokes. Love you forever,

Zadie.”

They read that letter aloud at the funeral.

And at that moment, it was clear, that one evening, that one story, that one exercise, was divine providence. Hashem had orchestrated it so this Zadie could have one last smile, one last moment of joy, and one final message of love for his grandson.

Rabbi Sytner reminded the mourners that what they had witnessed was Hashgacha Pratis, divine intervention.Because in every Nisayon (test), there’s a Nes (miracle).In every challenge, there’s a message waiting to be discovered.

And perhaps that message, for you, for all of us, is this:

Don’t wait. Don’t let another day go by without telling the people you love how much they mean to you.

Because sometimes, the letter you write today becomes the memory someone holds forever.