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As my husband and I walked through the streets of Yerushalayim, as we do every summer when we stay at the timeshare apartment we inherited from my parents, there was a different feel in the air. We joined the tourists and enjoyed the usual street entertainment surrounding the bustling cafes in the center of town and Mamilla. However, wherever we looked, there were reminders of the war, the soldiers who fell, the hostages who remain in captivity in Gaza.

Ping. Ping. Ping. All day long, my phone alerts me to messages coming in from the many WhatsApp groups that I joined recently. The chats are all war-related and members of the groups unite around issues close to their hearts. I don’t necessarily agree with every post or action mentioned in the groups, but I respect their sincere desire to do the right thing and improve the situation.

To get married in Israel, the couple must register with the Israeli Rabbanut by opening a file (“tik nisuin”) at their local religious council. They must bring various documents, proof of being Jewish, a certificate of kashrus from the wedding hall, and witnesses who can testify that they know the chasan and kallah as single.

The current war has not been a joyride. It was quite stressful when our son spent three months in Gaza. We were so grateful when his unit was sent home for a few days in January. This was the first time they had been sent home all at once for such a long period. My daughter-in-law gave birth during that time, and my son was able to accompany her to the birth. This was not something taken for granted at that time. Some soldiers managed to leave the field and meet their wives at the hospital when they gave birth. Those instances were often newsworthy, as many did not even manage to do that.

Many people are hurting right now. Some lost loved ones. Some don’t know where their loved ones are, or even if they are alive. Some lost their health and their ability to function as they once did. Some lost their homes, at least temporarily. There are those whose worlds have been altered so much that their lives have become unrecognizable. It never ceases to amaze me how some people can use their suffering as a springboard to bring good into the world.

Yom HaZikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day, is always intensely sad. This year, even more so. It feels like we are experiencing the climax of an extended Yom HaZikaron that began on October 7. The number of newly bereaved families is tragic and staggering. We live in a small country. Who doesn’t have some connection to a soldier killed in battle?