Often in his letters the Rebbe ends with an expression, “Azkir al hatziyon”, I will remember you at the resting place of the Frierdiker Rebbe. These words can also have another interpretation. The innermost point of the heart is Tzion. “Azkir al hatziyon” can mean, “I will remember you at Tzion, in the innermost point of my heart.” I met Tzion through his marriage to my sister-friend Devorah Leah Prager-Goldstein. One look and I knew that he was no ordinary person. In him was a true and pure heart. His illness lasted for ten years, but it was very rare to catch him in a downcast mood. He certainly maintained so much equipoise that those around him, even his closest; wife, children, siblings and in-laws were in a state of joy and celebration throughout the hardships that he faced. This was not to numb the terror and pain but as an outgrowth of the gift that Tzion brought to every table. That gift was Tzion himself.

Beside him one felt safe. He was able to soothe and comfort the ferocious waves that raged within him and in his world. He thought of others. He gave a hand. His world was orderly, clean and sensitively arranged. He needed neither stick nor persuasion to win everyone he met to his side.

A trip to the grocery, a car ride, a summer afternoon, a parakeet named Wasabi, it didn’t matter what, mundane or sublime, with Tzion everything was rich, loving and kind. His diagnosis was stark. At thirty years old he faced terror and pain at every juncture. He learned quickly that neither his illness nor his cure could be measured by any mortal calculations. At a certain point he understood that neither chemo nor radiation would do much good. Radical diets, supplements, that was for others. Tzion would turn to Hashem Himself. He would maintain his service of Torah and mitzvos that gave him so much joy, he would live proudly as a Chassid and he would believe.

Throughout the years he met countless doctors and traversed the rooms of multiple hospitals. Often in a state of pain and discomfort he would meet with negative prognosis from doctors. In such cases he never bent his head and let discouragement or fear overcome him. He eyed the doctors sternly as if to say, ‘you have no right to decide G-d’s affairs and throw your words around like weapons.” Do not make it your business to discourage and overwhelm a person who does not feel well.’ Together with his stare he would rebuke them with the Rebbe’s words, “G-d has only given you permission to heal.” Even in his weakened state his fiery neshama fought to believe and cleave to Hashem alone.

At one point he had been admitted to Mount Sinai Hospital in a crisis state. They placed him in a room and wrote him off. He couldn’t eat or drink and his body was shutting down. His legs had become very swollen, and they basically told his family that he had about a week left to live. His wife gathered the biggest and most well-connected Yidden together with her closest friends. They held a meeting and vowed to do everything in their power and beyond to save Tzion’s life. After countless phone calls they found a semi-retired doctor who agreed to operate on Tzion. He was transferred to a different hospital, the surgery was performed and Tzion lived close to four years more!

Ordinary people think of Hashem but Tzion knew Him. He placed his life in Hashem’s hands with every breath and moment. He accepted his illness with unflagging belief, faith and love. In every place he went he sought out his fellow Jews. He longed to awaken their hearts to Torah and mitzvos. His hospital bed was his makeshift tefillin stand. Doctors, nurses, fellow patients, family members of patients and anyone he met reached the chambers of Tzion’s heart. Each one received the offering of his full self, no matter what he was going through. In every situation he rarely considered himself. His entire mission was to give.

He often said, “I will relax”. He understood that the stress of the illness on his body and soul, joined with the pain and the fear of the unknown, was way more than any human being could handle. “I will relax” meant that he would fully trust Hashem. For this he would toil every day. Even in the years that his body had grown weaker and thinner he continued as usual, undeterred, saying, “the person you see is an example of the soul leading the body, not the opposite.” Even time cannot outrace a living heart. In Tzion, the innermost heart of hearts, there is always living water and life itself. May his life of grace return to Tzion.