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Dear Bereaved Families,
Mayor of Jerusalem,
Chairman of the Yad Labanim Organization,
Distinguished Guests,
Year after year we remember those who remain young, full of joie de vivre, hopes and great loves, those who will forever be twenty years old or slightly older.
Year after year we return to the winding paths of the military cemeteries, filled with sadness among the long lines of marble which have been the cost of our life in this country, and we grit our teeth at the heavy price paid.
Year after year we promise and pray that this will be the final victim, and then we return and with heavy hearts engrave another name on the monuments of the fallen. And the stone absorbs the names of the fallen in silence; another name and another life cut off in its prime, but the sharp pain must be borne and it flays the heart every time we remember the image of those who will not return.
Those who will not return – and left behind them chaste love only months old.
Those who will not return – and their dreams and wishes will no longer be realized.
Those who will not return – and only their smile can be glimpsed, framed, from the corner of the room, as if nearby, but in reality painfully far away.
Moshe Kesus lost his son Shahar in the helicopter disaster in Shaar Yeshuv. The grieving father wrote of his son who was taken at the age of 21:
“You who gave us life,
Laughter and light – you took everything from us.
And what can we ask of you
G-d? To remember the face of my son,
The smile that will never be erased,
For that is all that is left.”
And all that is left us who were privileged to live and remember the dead is to bow our heads in pain, pride and longing, and do everything – as a nation, as a people, as individuals – that the stone headstones which have been filled with names to excess will have no more names engraved of the fallen.
This year too, sadly, new names on the white headstones and a fair number of families joined the family of bereavement.
However this year as well, when courageous military actions were required in the various sectors against the increasing terror which cruelly strikes its victims – this year as well we nurture in our hearts the hope for a different tomorrow, a tomorrow which will bring a chance, a tomorrow which possibly will bring peace.
The hope for genuine peace with all our neighbors was and remains the most central pillar of our lives in this blood-soaked piece of land.
“When the army removes its uniforms, our hearts will stand at attention”, wrote Naomi Shemer in her song “Tomorrow”, and who among us does not wait for this moment, this day, even if it takes some time – it will come.
Dear families,
Words cannot heal, and statements do not console.
Your sons and daughters paid the most precious price which life in this country can exact, and every day, every hour, you bear the excruciating pain of this cost.
As we mark Memorial Day for Israel’s Fallen Soldiers, we embrace you to our hearts and wish you better, quieter and safer days.
On this day, we pray for the speedy recovery of the IDF’s wounded, strengthen the disabled who bear on their bodies the pains of war, and hope for the return of the hostages, kidnapped and missing.
May the memory of the thousands of fallen be forever bound to life.
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