It is hard to write about grief, about young friends who grew up with us and lost their lives in the war. But when the pain is collective it makes it more bearable somewhat. We always remember those who fell. We have a place in the Kibbutz where their lives are being kept alive and we have our day to remember, The Memorial Day for those who fell in Israel's wars.
A child who was my senior in climbing the sycamore tree by our home was killed in the Yom Kippur war years later when he was 18. Everyone knows people who died in the war. Through their poems, their writings, the photos they left behind, in some ways they stayed part of us as we moved forward, they are not forgotten.
The ceremonies are very serious and very important. The whole Kibbutz will gather at the night of Memorial Day to commemorate collectively those who gave their lives to keep Israel alive. The sons, the friends, the fathers who will forever be part of our history. The stories of their lives keep going on even after their passing. There is decency about it, there is honor.
I heard a story about an English man who, as a child in London, riding the bus, was watching how all the men lowered their hats as the bus was passing by the cenotaph and all the women turned their heads to honor the British soldiers who gave their lives to protect their country in WW1. Many years later passing by the cenotaph on a similar bus ride no one paid any attention. If collective amnesia will be our lot we will have lost much.
At the night of the conclusion of the Memorial day and the beginning of Independence day we will all gather on the huge lawn in front of the not less huge synagogue. The night was somber and serious. A chosen person will go up to the Memorial Torch, climbing 3 steps to light it in memory of those who have been with us and now are gone, but still are part of our on going national story. The eulogies, the poems, the prose were read through booming amplifying sound system and there was a total quiet. The Israeli flag was in half mast, the drummer by the flag ready to make his act when the flag will be raised to signify the end of mourning and inception of Independence Day. It was solemn.
To be chosen to be one of the children who carried the torches that night, to signify one more year for Israel, I was enraptured. The bit of the drum, the orders of the MC shouted through loud loudspeakers, being part of a snake of torches, marching to a bit, becoming part of a live ceremony, mistakes were not acceptable, all has to be perfect. Left, right, left, right, we will go into the empty dark space in the middle of the crowd, and hold our torches and flags until the ceremony ended with thousand people singing Hatikvah, (The Israeli Anthem - The Hope)
At the end of all that a fiery structure made of burlap bags soaked in gasoline will be ignited spelling the number of years since independence. That operation was tricky and often not completely successful. Then the fireworks will zoom through the sky signifying the end of the night ceremonies.
Eating and partying afterwards always felt like an anticlimax, but life goes on and so did we, to a whole day of hiking, camping, barbequing and entertainment. Not the least the international bible quiz competition.
Boaz Pnini
Bridges 2 Israel
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