Every year, at the end of the Seder, my family sings this Yiddish song Moo Adabah.  I won't even TRY to explain it to you because - really, I can't. But it's 12 verses and lots of fun and after several glasses of Manischweitz, it can and often does, get a bit raucous.

For years and years and years my Great Uncle Icky would lead us. He'd be on his feet, clapping, stomping, and singing with such gusto that you couldn't help but join in.  Every verse ends with the phrase "a chitzen kai-enya" (spelled phonetically because really? I don't speak Yiddish) and at the end of every verse, we'd all yell "a chitzen kai-enya. But none as loud as Uncle Icky.

Sadly my Uncle Icky passed away and last year's Seder was the first we'd ever celebrated without him.  It was weird and sad and strange, but when it came time to sing Moo Adabah, my Dad and my brother lead the charge and I think we all sang as loudly as we could to make sure that Icky could hear us.

Last night, we started to sing and it was nice, but it was quiet. Calm.  There was no Icky. No Dad. No big brother. There was simply no gusto.  And so somewhere around verse 9 or 10, I jumped to my feet and when the verse started, even though I am completely tone deaf, I sang as loud as I could. I slapped the table with my hand. I stomped my feet on the floor.  When the verses ended, I sang "a chitzen kai-enya" as loud as I could. For a few brief moments, I channeled my beloved Uncle.

After we had finished, my Aunt Pearl (Icky's sister) came up to me with tears in her eyes.  I was teary too. It had been a special moment and for once in my life, I felt like I had done my small part to bring our family a little closer together.