When a person loses his relatives, a huge hole opens in his heart that will probably never be completely closed.
The Day of Remembrance for the Martyrs of the Israeli Armed Forces, which took place today (Wednesday), is one of those days that reminds the relatives of the fallen of the same hole.
Shira, Neta and Moore shared "Israel Hayom" with what they wrote for their sisters.
Neta Ben Armon, sister of the late Sergeant Tali Ben Armon
My Tali.
As every year, this period always brings with it an emotional load, a kind of such mental stress towards challenging days.
The last few months have taken us back in time, to those hard days with the strong anxieties.
The shooting attacks returned to us and this time too, unfortunately, families joined the cruel bereavement group.
A 20-year-old female soldier was killed in a terrorist attack in Hadera, who returned home from the army and was shot down from the bus.
For all of us it made a big coach in the heart.
Straight phone to parents, hear how they are with this whole story.
You probably know, I'm pregnant again, a third child with the help of the name on the way (who will only be healthy), and the inconceivable thing for me, as a mother, is how do you get up the day after ?!
How can one lose a child and go on with life ?!
how?!
Sergeant Tali Ben Armon, Photo: Courtesy of the family
Even for me as a girl and as a 14-year-old girl in early adolescence, there were no tools to deal with such pain and earthquake.
I automatically pushed, and just wanted to be strong and happy for Mom and Dad, who would no longer experience any difficulty in life.
At that time I really remember that I adopted the role of parent to collect and protect the existing one, so that it would not be broken for me anymore.
Over the years I have learned to live with the pain, repression has become a compulsive coping, and I have had to deal with myself and the anxieties I have been carrying ever since.
The pain of loss does not let up for a moment, it becomes part of who you are in this world.
My Tali, you left us lots of sweet memories.
Your painting talent is still on the walls of the house and your longing for conversations and your rolling laughter resonates with me all the time.
20 years you are not in our world, a completely insane number!
One of the things I remember really well from you was your dazzling beauty and the charisma that went into every room with you.
My girlfriends and I would always look at you with great admiration, dream a little of touching your glamor, you were like a character from another world.
This thought sometimes makes me think that you really might not have completely belonged to this world.
You had something bigger, more prestigious and eye-catching.
Neta Ben Armon, sister of the late Sergeant Tali Ben Armon,
You probably remember the amount of compliments you would get at any family event, people kept admiring you.
I'm sure that in the world you are in today, everyone is blinded by the beauty that erupts from you.
You stay 20 years old, at your peak!
The most beautiful, the purest, our most Tali.
I really miss it!
I will soon tell my children about you, they are still too young to understand everything, but at the first opportunity I will share them and ask you, if you agree, to accompany them in life as you accompany me, guarding us well and helping us face life's challenges!
you are my angle.
"With each passing day it becomes clearer how much you are missing."
Love and miss you, your sister forever, Neta.
Neta Ben Armon is the sister of Sergeant Tali Ben Armon. The late Tali served as an observer and was killed on her way home from the base in a shooting attack at the central bus station in Afula in 2001. Tali is accompanied by our brothers' association, for brothers and sisters in the Israeli bereaved family.
Shira Ben Porat, sister of the late Batsheva Unterman
In my fleet, almost 14 years have passed in which I have been swinging between reality and dream.
The line so thin and fragile is almost gone.
It's all because of an injustice, a terrorist who brutally ran over your life with a formidable yellow bulldozer.
Since I'm trying to live - I survived a year of service, I married Ado (who unfortunately you did not get to see but only heard about), I had three lovely children and I am already almost 32 years old!
And yet, another day passes, another month, another year ... and everything without you.
It is said that time does its thing, but the pain is not erased, it only intensifies and I fight every day to live with it.
The late Batsheva Unterman, Photo: Courtesy of the family
I remember that for everything I would tell you, you would give a shoulder, a warm hand, a smile.
We spent many hours together at home until you got married, and even then I would come to you, relax after a long day at school, study for exams and matriculation or just laugh at things that only we understand.
And the food?
Always preparing amazing food!
From you I learned all the secrets, from how to make an omelet in childhood to making a sweet challah for Shabbat.
You always pampered me with delicious food when I came to visit you.
"Always happy" was your motto, and wherever you were, you left your mark.
In the Navy, I try to rejoice, really, as much as possible, but even the word "difficult" will not be able to describe how complicated it is.
How hard?
Especially on Memorial Day, which cynically is your birthday, D. Bayer.
Shira Ben Porat, sister of the late Batsheva Unterman, Photo: Oren Ben Hakon
I remember that we waited every year to celebrate your birthday, at exactly eight o'clock in the evening, as soon as they waved the Israeli flag at the beacon lighting ceremony on Mount Herzl in honor of Independence Day, because it does not belong to you to celebrate Memorial Day.
Now this day for me has taken on a double meaning.
The siren that pierces the air, the tears that do not stop and the whole nation in silence.
And the songs, oh the songs ... how much you loved hearing the good old Memorial Day songs.
Today every song that is played reminds me of you and I see your face.
So where are you really, my dear sister?
You are not here in the reality of life, but in dreams you are still here.
poetry.
Shira Ben Porat is the younger sister of the late Batsheva Unterman, who was killed in a terrorist attack on Jaffa Street in Jerusalem in 2008 by a terrorist who hit a car and buses with a stolen tractor and crushed her car. Shira accompanies our brothers' association, for brothers and sisters in the Israeli bereaved family.
Mor Cohen, sister of Maj. Gen. Hadar Cohen
My citrus, the years go by and with them the longings only intensify.
Sometimes I think I have nothing more to innovate when I write to you.
Sometimes I try to find words, an expression for my feelings, for feelings, for time without you - and can't find one.
The distance between us seems endless, but I know you are always with me, I feel your strengths here by my side.
I'm sure you're good up there.
It's obviously good for you because I'm so sure you reached the highest place in light of who you were and what you did.
Saving human life.
The late Hadar Cohen, Photo: Courtesy of the family
I know you must have met a lot of other friends who saved your life.
Pure royal heroes.
I'm sure you also met Grandpa Moshe and Grandma Sarah and Grandma Edna and that you are protected up there.
That they care for you and pamper you like they always did.
That they embrace you like they have never embraced.
How much you wished to hug them.
"Oz and Hadar are dressed and will play for the last day," read "Eshet Chayil," and today, my beloved Hadar, I feel that this verse is as if it was written about you.
For the heroism, for the grace, for the perpetual joy that were a candle to your feet, and for having no choice, inevitably, today we are forced to face life itself with boldness and splendor.
Just like you.
This is the legacy you have left for us, and for me in particular.
I have chosen to perpetuate your path and close the circle.
A little over four and a half years ago, I enlisted in the Israel Police, I completed an officers' course.
I make sure to always remind you!
And over time the pain becomes a part of us, residing in the drawers of our hearts.
Like another organ in the body with a life of its own.
Of necessity we make room for him for an hour, for two hours, for three from today.
The rest of the hours remain in favor of the beautiful memories, giggles, nonsense we experienced together.
Sometimes the pain is alarming, most of the time it erupts like this, popping up out of nowhere with the passing memory.
Comes in a constant burst of tears or with suffocation in the throat.
And in time you become indifferent, like drugged under the effects of pain, because the heart still hurts and the heart does not forget.
He is thirsty just to see or hear you, just not to forget the sound of laughter and the good smell.
And in time the pictures from that day accompany you and come back every day.
In time, even eyes surrounded by wrinkles will recreate images ... a red bed, a smooth cheek, the closed eyes of a beautiful girl, an angel brightly lit, nobility and innocence.
Mor Cohen, sister of Maj. Gen. Hadar Cohen, Photo: Courtesy of the family
Time will numb the pain, people say, but how can you numb pain that becomes sharper day by day?
How do we continue to contain the longings?
Hadari, you accepted the commandment "and love your neighbor as yourself."
You taught me and the whole nation an important lesson in free love, devotion, courage, evil, mutual guarantee and love of the homeland.
I will never forget you.
With all your heart you have given your soul for your saturated society, for the people of Israel.
You have always felt the connection and responsibility you have for this people, diminishing in each and every one a spark of light.
Few are the people who have looked at themselves and subdued every foreign motive except doing good, and you have done so.
You have sanctified the value of life.
I hear, my sister, your will to us: "I ask that you continue to fight for us, for us, that our deaths not be in vain. Continue to cling to life, save lives, sanctify the value of life."
Love you and miss you forever, Moore.
Mor Cohen is the sister of Maj. Our brothers' association, for brothers and sisters in the Israeli bereaved family
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