I tried to listen, and I managed to stay and here a woman talk about her two brothers. Her twin brother was killed, first death on the southern front, if I heard right, during the Six Days War. Then her older brother was killed during the Yom Kippur War. He had been missing for a few months, and when our soldiers were finally released, they discovered that he had been killed.
The army informed her first. After she told her father and they told her mother, her mother tried to kill herself.
Then when they started another story about a woman whose husband and children were murdered in a terror attack, I couldn't stay another second, especially when they referred to it as her "private holocaust."
Today I went to work in the Yeshiva High School in Beit El, as usual, but the yeshiva courtyard was being prepared for the big ceremony, which will be tomorrow morning, with the sirens.
Besides the flags, blue, white and orange, there are large posters commemorating the dead, especially our students who've been killed.
I remember when terror attacks were frequent. It was especially hard to get the kids to concentrate on English and any other subject. One lesson was only attended by one student, who actually worked relatively well for part of the lesson. I complimented him for the good work he had done and tried to get him to stay longer.
המורהת, HaMorah, Mrs. Teacher, I can't. I just buried three friends this week.
I excused him, what a hero he was, how strong. I don't think I could have done anything like that in his situation.
Yihi Zichrom Baruch
May their Memories
Be Blessed
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