Nehara Kalev | Rachel Rosenthal
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Rachel Rosenthal

Rachel Rosenthal

It has taken me some time to acknowledge the passing of Rachel Rosenthal, May 10.

After an incredibly emotional 10 days, I can say I’ve never lost anyone I’ve loved and admired with this kind of ferocity and awe and timeless wonder and immense joy. I opened to Rachel in a unique and intimate way. Surrendering to her, allowing her pure presence to carve me. I always wanted more of Rachel’s eyes, voice, words, opinions, stories, thoughts, kisses, grunts and smiles. I trusted her to shape the person, the artist, the human I am being now.

The gratitude is overwhelming.

Her hands. I always loved holding her hands.
Our late-nite chats, both my hands surrounding one of hers, saying goodnight to another miraculous and devastating and mundane day . . . I want her back, I still need her hands. She knows this. She says, “Oh well dahhhling, c’est la vie!”.

Rachel saw me through three major life transitions. Now I must grasp her transition. I cherish the part of me that will never ever ever truly grasp that she is gone. Because her hands. They are holding me, still.

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