In Loving Memory of Daniel Chernikoff A"H

Since his recent passing, I speak to my brother Daniel A”H, more often than ever.  I wish him well, tell him that I love and miss him, tell him how sorry I am for what happened to him and let him know that all those he left behind are praying hard on his behalf.

Of course, I receive no response.  No “Hey brother.” No smile. No discussing our frustration with the Mets. No plans made to catch a movie.

Growing up, my brothers and I had a stereotypical brotherly love for one another. Invariably, one of us would get picked on by the other two. Punches, smacks and more were exchanged, however up until Daniel’s last days, when the three brothers got together it wasn’t long before we were all shaking with laughter.

Daniel is remembered by those who knew him for his easygoing demeanor, persistent smile and his dedication to the study of Torah. He spent two years learning at Yeshivat Netiv Aryeh in Jerusalem, followed by three years at Yeshiva University, and a summer studying at a kollel in New Jersey. He lived to do good for others, devoting two summers and numerous Shabbatot helping the developmentally disabled.

In September of 2009, he met the love of his life, Ariella. Their time together was brief, yet they managed to see and do more in months than some attempt in a lifetime.

Daniel and Ariella were insistent about a short engagement and they married in March. My family will forever take comfort in the knowledge that the last few months of his all too short time with us were his happiest. He truly appreciated being married, and rejoiced in his luck at finding such a special eshet chayil (woman of valor).

For 24 years, I had a younger brother to laugh with, learn from and care for. We danced at each other’s weddings and watched far too many ball games and movies together. Unbeknownst to us, we pieced together a string of memories that, now, I try to collect and stow away, like rare jewels.

Though it was a physical defect in Daniel’s heart that ultimately betrayed him, the emotional and spiritual warmth that emanated from it will forever remain with those whose lives he touched.

Questions of “why?” and “what if?” often emerge, and again, no response is, or can ever be, given, for there is nothing to say. I don’t know where my brother is right now, but I feel him constantly. And I know that someday, far off in the distance of this sometimes incomprehensible road we call life, we will meet again.

Yehi zichro baruch (may his memory be a blessing).

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Jeremy Chernikoff is a past editor of IMAGE.