A natural death. Language tortures us. Relative to the other deaths, meaning she died in your helpless, hungry arms. And was not shot, not smothered, not thrown to life or death, from a racing gas- bound train. A dead bundle, swaddled by your ribbon-thin hands.
Memory is a kind of burial.
Your first baby, Bina Rachel, born in Tarnopol Ghetto in 1940. And died there, exactly one year later, on Yom Kippur. A natural death. Language tortures us. Relative to the other deaths, meaning she died in your helpless, hungry arms.