A Friend's Letter

A friend of mine lives in Israel with his family. Here is part of an e-mail he wrote to me this morning.



It's so sad here, CR. I've been listening to the funerals on the radio this morning. Heartbreaking - tear-rending. Crying mothers and fathers and teachers.

Two of the boys were Yoni's age (15). He listened with me, and we held our hands together for a few minutes with his head on my shoulder as they spoke of the irony of bringing in the month of Adar in joy, while we cry over this massacre of these young, idealistic men - they were the best of the best, CR. Most of the others weren't much older than Yoni, either. It hit home.

It's like, I wanted the journalists to stop - to take the microphones away from the parents. I wanted them to stop recording the parents crying. I wanted them to leave them to their pain. I don't know if it was because of how hard it was for me - maybe it's because of that, that I felt it must be hard for them. I could feel it.

No Words

Baruch Dayan Haemes

I have no words for what took place today except that I'm glad that no matter what's going on in my life right now, I can still hug my child.


Prof K eloquently writes about every parents' worst fear.