And again, disaster.
And the painful phrase "permitted to publish".
And a punch straight into the stomach, in the most painful place, which folds and constricts and suffocates.
And it's never clear how a broken heart breaks again and again.
In the last two days there have been three.
and another 21. Reluctant superheroes.
And hundreds of other circles of family members and friends, which break and join the hundreds that crash every day anew.
And the broken heart breaks even more.
Each one of those killed in the war is a whole world, and we cry for each one of them.
And when so many worlds go together, the pain is already unbearable.
IDF spokesperson
In our calendar there is one day of remembrance for the martyrs of the IDF, but during the year there are dozens more yarzeits (death anniversaries). A collection of disasters that brought together the dead and the surviving family members.
The first disaster of Tire.
And the other one too.
Helicopter Disaster.
The boat disaster.
The APC in Sajaiya, and much more. The brain almost automatically attaches the word disaster to them, even though the heart no longer believes. In every war there are quite a few of these, national disasters, and quite a few bereaved parents have already told me that they would have preferred their own son Anonymous And in life he will be part of a list of heroes who die.
It's been more than three months that our lives have all been turned upside down.
are built from roller coasters that go up and down, and down, and down.
And sometimes, like yesterday, they still, with a boom, fly off the rails and crash.
More bereaved parents, more widows and weeping spouses, more half-orphaned children.
"You loved the country so much", the funeral of the late Major Eli Levy today, photo: Gideon Markovich
These children are "half", because sometimes they have another parent.
And they have us, the people of Israel, who embrace their bereaved and embrace the soldiers.
Because we are proud of our soldiers, in the regular service and in the reserves.
Glad to see them come home, trust them in battle.
They are paid in falafel sometimes, kitty blankets are donated to them along with deodorants, and also ceramic vests, and even drones.
As long as they get back from there alive.
It doesn't matter that when they return, they have to make up for all this lack of life, and with it the job, the mortgage, the studies, the spouses or the children they miss.
Because as long as they are there, grouped together, fighting together, falling together, the phrase "allowed to publish" hovers over us all.
Family members of the late Major Eli Levy, photo: none
It's been three months that the people on the home front have been living as if they were.
Parents' days, bar mitzvahs, birthdays or weddings, because happiness is not postponed.
Yesterday, for example, I felt a little jealous of a friend who said he was going to root canal treatment.
Suddenly dental care seems like a comforting event, where there is no need to talk about deaths.
or about the murdered.
or about disasters.
just sit
shut up.
and cry
Because it's in our DNA. During a war we try to hold our heads up and be proud, but when the words "national disaster" appear in the headlines again - we're allowed to cry.
were we wrong
We will fix it!
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