Tonight, we light the eighth and final candle of Chanukah. There’s something deeply poetic about this moment—an end that feels more like a beginning. As I strike the match, I’m not just lighting a wick; I’m illuminating a week’s worth of memories, reflections, and, frankly, a little chaos.
Lighting Candles in FivePlaces—and Creating a Lifetime of Memories
This year’s Chanukah has been nothing short of an adventure. We lit our menorah in five places: the first in our home, nights two, three, six, and seven at my in-laws’ house, and nights four and five in surrounded by family and friends celebrating my sister-in-law Debi’s wedding to Paul and finally tonight at my Mom’s house back in Miami with more family. Each lighting was a snapshot of connection, a reminder that traditions adapt to the rhythms of our lives. Carrying its own energy—a mix of laughter, exhaustion, love, and, occasionally, a toddler demanding to hold the shamash (that’s still a no, Yael).
It’s funny—Chanukah is a holiday steeped in tradition, yet this year our traditions traveled. And I think that’s the beauty of it. Whether we were surrounded by wedding joy, cozying up at my in-laws’, or finally lighting at home with some semblance of calm, the menorah grounded us. It didn’t matter where we were or how chaotic the day had been; those candles brought us back to what’s important.
A Family That Feels Like a Miracle
If you’ve been reading along this week, you know family means everything to me. And this trip was another reminder of just how lucky we are. My daughters, Yael and Diana, are blessed with aunts, uncles, and grandparents who cherish them. Watching my sisters, Gabby, Ariel, and Dani, as well as my sisters-in-law Debi and Sari, and their partners Paul and Steve, take time with Yael and Diana and shower them with love was magical it filled me with gratitude. Each one found their own way to make the girls feel like the center of the universe at different moments, even amidst wedding madness showing them the power of family love. Whether it was a stolen moment playing games or just holding them during a meltdown (thanks, Steve!), they gave my daughters something priceless: love that stretches across generations.
We missed Elan, Gabby’s husband, who couldn’t join us because of work, but even in his absence, his presence was felt. This family? It’s a miracle. Not the oil-burning-eight-days kind, but the kind where every person steps up, pours in love, and makes you feel like you belong.
A Hug That Was the Highlight of My Year
Of all the moments this week, the one I’ll hold onto forever wasn’t flashy or loud. It was quiet. In the basement of my in-laws’ house, Yael was playing while I laid on the bed nearby. I got up to leave, and she stopped me. “Lay back down, Daddy,” she said. I did. She climbed up, gave me the kind of hug that rewires your soul, and said, “You’re the best daddy in the world.”
I don’t know if I am the best dad (I mean, Bandit from Bluey is a high bar) but in that moment, I felt like it. Everything else melted away. Work, stress, the to-do list that never ends—it all disappeared. That moment was a miracle—uncomplicated, pure, and so profoundly grounding. All that mattered was her tiny arms and the way she looked at me with absolute love.
The Grind vs. What Actually Matters
Even during this family-focused trip, work wasn’t far behind. It’s no secret I’ve got a lot on my plate. I work hard—probably harder than I should. I still found myself answering customer questions and putting out small fires. This time though, I tried something different: instead of letting work steal the spotlight, I kept it as background noise. But here’s what I’m learning: the grind only matters if it’s building something worth grinding for. If you can’t pause to enjoy your family, your kids, the quiet moments—what’s the point?
Chanukah is about finding light in the darkness, and this week reminded me that the brightest light isn’t in the candles; it’s in the people you light them with.
A Menorah That Tells a Story
Tonight, as we light the final candle, I’m struck by a special connection. The menorah we’re using is my parents’ first menorah—the one they lit in their early days together, long before Gabby and I entered the picture. It’s weathered decades of holidays, moves, and, no doubt, a lot of wax drippings. To me, it’s a symbol of resilience, love, and the way traditions carry forward. My daughters don’t know it yet, but they’re part of a story that started long before them—and one that I hope they’ll carry on long after me.
The Eighth Light
Tonight, as the menorah glows in its full brilliance, I’m reminded of the true lesson of Chanukah: even in the darkest moments, light finds a way. For me, that light is my family. It’s the way Yael adores Diana, how I hope they’ll always be this close. It’s the love of a family that shows up for each other, whether at a wedding, a holiday, or just a random weekday. It makes me realize that the best legacy we leave isn’t in business plans or client wins. It’s in the relationships we build, the love we nurture, and the quiet, glowing moments we create together.
Chanukah reminds us that even the smallest spark can illuminate the darkest nights. And tonight, on the eighth night, my heart is full knowing that my family—spread across homes, hotels, and hugs—is the brightest light in my life.
Chag Sameach, from our family to yours. 🕎
