Chasidut sur L’Ecclésiaste 1:11

His friends come to visit him, and they calm him down. They bless him with wellbeing, and offer encouraging words. It could be that the first few times he finds strength in their words, but during the course of his illness when his pain is greater and his dark musings disturb him, and he thinks, “It would be so pleasant if I could be together with you, my friends. How bitter it is that I lie here isolated, separated from you, alone in a dark pit. It would be such a holy joy to be with you, all together, hearing the music you play and the songs you sing to God. What a nightmare it is to be lying here, listening to the jiggering of the bugs and the rustling the vermin under and around my bed. If only I knew, my sons. If only I had hope, my friends, that at least on Shabbos and Holidays I could allow my soul to fly to you and join in you pure celebrations, then I would already be happy. Then I would wrap myself in your Torah teachings and in your prayers, I would hold on to your belts, and dance with you in the circle dance of the Chassidim, and in this way ascend in Hashem’s own simchah that is among you. But who knows if I will be worthy of this. Who knows if, regardless of my current state, I will be granted permission to at least watch your simchah from afar, to watch you, and to see the splendor of your holy joy at these times. Who knows! Who knows! Would that at least you would remember me as I want to remember you - as much as I will be allowed to remember you. But what do we know! Maybe even this will not be possible, because, “there is no remembrance of former things.”¹⁴⁷Koheles, Ch. 1:11, meaning, I will be forgotten and my memory tossed in the dustbin of history. How hard it is to leave you. How difficult it is to tear myself away from you.