A Rebbe’s Final Request: “Please Visit My Grave”

Hello everyone, my name is Dor Hadad, and I’d like to share something deeply personal—an experience my wife Asia and I went through together.

It all began three years ago, just a few days before Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year), during the month of Elul, a time when many Jews focus on spiritual growth. Asia and I had just started dating, and early on, she said something that showed me how important her values were: “Before we go any further, I want you to meet my Rebbe. His opinion means a lot to me.”

I had become religious later in life and had met many rabbis, but I was nervous. I already felt Asia could be the one, and now I had to meet her spiritual guide.

We traveled to a small beit knesset (synagogue) in Bnei Brak. That’s where I met the Rebbe of Zlotshov—and it felt like a beam of light walked into the room.

He spoke to me like a father speaking to a potential match for his daughter—kind, warm, and full of interest. When I shared that I was trying to learn Torah but struggled with Gemara (Talmud), I’ll never forget what he said: “I’ll be your study partner.”

From that moment, a bond formed between us that changed my life.

"Simcha"—Joy Above All
The Rebbe gave us his blessing to get married, and from there, he became a guiding light in our lives. He would call every Friday to bless us with Shabbat Shalom, and we would travel together to visit the resting places of righteous people. He always reminded us that “joy is the most important thing.”

This gentle, humble tzaddik (righteous person) made time to learn with me even though he was busy completing seven pages of Talmud every single day in memory of his late father.

But just two days after his father's memorial, his own beloved wife suddenly passed away. Her funeral was the only time I ever saw the Rebbe cry. Yet even after that heartbreak, he told us: Hashem loves every Jew. He encouraged us to dance, to celebrate, and to choose joy—even in the hardest times.

As our wedding day approached, we asked him to read our ketubah (marriage contract) and be a witness. He was so touched.

We learned so much from him—not just Torah, but how to live with kindness, humility, and a genuine love for every Jew. He visited sick children in hospitals, taught little ones Torah, and personally made sure that anyone who didn’t have food or a place to go for the holidays was taken care of.

For every struggle, every question, he was there. He truly felt like a messenger from Hashem.

A Sudden Goodbye
One Thursday night, not long before our wedding, we took a midnight trip with friends to visit the graves of tzaddikim (holy people) in Jerusalem. Early the next morning, Asia told me we should call the Rebbe and tell him about it.

But at 5:30 a.m., just before Shabbat, my phone rang. It was Asia. Her voice shook.

“He’s gone,” she said.

The Rebbe had passed away suddenly. No warning. No goodbye. It was exactly three months before our wedding.

The funeral was after Shabbat. Hundreds came—men and women, religious and secular, Ashkenazi and Sephardi. All of Israel was there. That’s the kind of love he gave, and that’s the kind of love he received.

In the months that followed, we kept asking ourselves: What would the Rebbe say? How would he guide us? Then something happened that brought new clarity.

A Phone Call From the World Beyond
One month after our wedding, on the 18th of Tishrei, Asia had a dream. On her phone screen, she saw seven missed calls from “The Rebbe of Zlotshov.”

When she called him back in the dream, he asked, “What, have you forgotten me?”

Asia answered, “Of course not! We miss you so much! You were like a father to me. But you told me women shouldn’t go to cemeteries.”

He replied, “No, you should come. I want you to visit my grave.”

She woke up crying.

A few days later, during Chol HaMoed Sukkot (the intermediate days of Sukkot), we went to the cemetery in Netanya. When we found his grave, we were stunned—there was no tombstone. Nothing.

We knew why he had come to Asia in the dream.

A Community Unites
We started asking questions and understood right away—our mission was to build him a proper tombstone.

The Rebbe would’ve wanted something modest, but after speaking to Rabbi Amos from Netanya, we realized that honoring this humble tzaddik with dignity was the right thing.

We decided on a three-tiered stone. The cost? 40,000 shekels.

We didn’t know how we’d raise it. But within one week—yes, one week—we raised the entire amount through friends, strangers, social media, and word of mouth.

From secular to ultra-Orthodox, men and women, from every corner of Israel—everyone contributed. Everyone cared. The Rebbe had always seen every Jew as a diamond. And now, all of Am Yisrael (the Jewish people) came together to honor him.

We built his tombstone—together. It was our way of saying thank you.

A Torah That Lives On
There’s one thing I still carry—a volume of Tractate Berachot, the first book of the Talmud. I never finished learning it with him.

But I continue learning. And in our home, his picture hangs on the wall—a constant reminder to walk in his ways, to care for others, and to choose joy.

May the memory of the Rebbe of Zlotshov, Rabbi Mordechai Meir ben Miriam, be a blessing for all of us.