Not a day goes by that I do not think of Tzion. He was like a brother to me. He called me “hermano mellizo”, twin brother, because of our similarities. Even our fathers have the same name and profession. He was my best friend. I miss him very much. Despite Tzion’s unspeakable pain, he exerted himself to host others on Shabbos and Yom Tov. Every Shabbos day he skipped taking his pain medication so that we could learn a Rashi sicha between Mincha and Maariv. If we did not finish by Maariv we continued learning after Maariv until we finished. He did not move on in a sichah until we both understood what we had learned. He used to say that reading a sichah is not like reading a newspaper. He understood that it is G-dly wisdom and cannot be approached casually. He had to physically exert himself to learn. More than once he commented, quoting a verse in the Siddur, that learning requires bodily exertion.

I cannot explain how he routinely endured horrors of agony that would cause most people to choose to stop fighting. It is even harder to explain how he was able to genuinely care about what others were going through. He was a good listener and had good advice.Tzion was grounded in Torah and dedicated to the shlichus of the Rebbe MH”M. He understood people and accepted them. His stories and advice stay with me till today. I often think to myself, ‘what would Tzion do?’ Tzion will never leave my heart. He is the first person I hope to meet by Techias Hameisim, but I am afraid that I will have to wait in a long line because I was only one of many people who have loved Tzion and long to be reunited with him.