They translated the article, explaining more about Leah Zinger, on the ravberland.com site.

You can see the full thing HERE.

Unless something changed since the article was written in June last year, Leah Zinger had no children of her own, despite being married for many years. That’s part of the reason why she started the ‘Room of Dreams’ at Hadassah, to help the children undergoing medical procedures get through their suffering with a silver lining.

I am bringing below what Leah wrote herself, translated from that article.

It had me crying, mamash.

The Rav was not exaggerating even a tiny bit, when he said Leah coped with ‘being alone’, and that she had nothing of her own.

BH, no more of these special souls will have to pass on before their time, but in the meantime, it’s very humbling, to understand there are people like this in the world.

In Jerusalem.

In Shuvu Banim.

Baruch Dayan Emet.

==

Words I Wrote Between Night and Day / Leah Z.

Everyone is busy and preoccupied with the day-to-day: waking up early, getting kids ready for school, welcoming them home, serving meals, and putting them to bed. I am busy fulfilling only my own needs, organizing my day with accomplishments on one hand and filling empty hours on the other.

Everyone is looking for a babysitter so they can go out to work and run errands. I am looking for someone to go out with and how not to be alone in the house.

Everyone fills shopping carts with weekly groceries. I occasionally buy a few items on the way home.

Everyone makes sure the house is full of abundance, that there is enough. I make sure no leftovers remain so they won’t be thrown in the trash.

Everyone barely reads, barely manages to listen to anything. I make sure to have reading materials and good content hotlines, so I won’t feel empty.

On the eve of a Yom Tov (holiday), they can barely breathe, busy up to their necks. I manage to clean and cook, and still have free time left over.

For everyone, the evening is bedtime, full of pressure and the exhaustion of a tiring day. I manage to do laundry, rest, or go out.

Everyone is looking for ways to supplement their income, trying to learn something that can bring in a little more. I look for courses for the sake of occupation, a pleasant time, and company.

Everyone wants to sleep a full, calm night, but the kids don’t always let them. I, too, long for a calm sleep, without waking up from tension, pressure, and thoughts of ‘what will be.’

Everyone knows pediatricians and family doctors. I know doctors and professors from every field.

Everyone fills albums with newborn photos, Chalakah (first haircut) pictures, Bar Mitzvahs, and Mishloach Manos (Purim gift) photos. I have a few photos of myself at simchas (celebrations).

==

Everyone has two candlesticks and an abundance of illuminating flames. I have two candles for ‘Shamor’ and ‘Zachor’ (the Shabbos candles), and a prayer that stretches from one end of the world to the other: ‘And grant me the merit to raise children…’

Everyone is busy with conversations about strollers, kindergartens, and maternity convalescent homes. I have conversations with doctors about ‘how we move forward now.’

Everyone fills suitcases with clothes, bottles, and baby formula. My suitcase is full of medications and reading materials.

I wanted a house with children; I received an empty, desolate house.

I wanted vitamins for strength, and I received endless injections, pills, and medications.

I wanted quality time with children, a home, and a job, and I received a lot of time to think and dream…

I wanted normal, happy topics of conversation, and I received diverse topics—oh, how diverse… about treatments and doctors, and how to cope on all fronts and stay strong…

I wanted to be busy with children of all ages, and I received a search for occupation and ways to fill my time.

I wanted to be a ‘Yiddishe Mamme’ (a Jewish mother), to hug and love my baby, to tell him, ‘Mommy is here… Mommy won’t leave you,’ to receive in return a wondrous smile and eyes that look up at me with trust. I received a hole in my heart and a great void, and a need to receive kind words myself.

I wanted, Master of the Universe, I wanted so much… But You want otherwise. For now… And I ask so deeply to make my will like Your will. With love.

Because I am Your child. I am an only daughter. Beloved. Unique. And I have, I know, other pamperings and other privileges.

And You, Tatty (Father)—as the Rav once told us—You keep our tears… our sighs… our moments of pain… And You love our broken, shattered words so much. They are so close.

==

This article was published in the “Marva LaTzama” magazine, Parshas Shlach 5785 (June 2025). Leah Yocheved Singer a”h was killed in a car accident on 1 Nissan 5786 (April 5, 2026). For the elevation of her soul and to perpetuate her legacy of chessed (loving-kindness), a ‘Women’s Soup Kitchen’ named after Leah Yocheved Singer a”h is being established by the ‘Linas HaChessed’ organization, headed by Rabbi Chaim Cohen shlit”a (her father).