Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Yom Hazikaron // Day of Remembrance for Fallen Soldiers & Victims of Terror

I remember you. I remember every tiny detail about you. The lush shade of brown your hair was, the bright blue sparkle mixed into your piercing green eyes. The little dimple that appeared every time you smiled at me, as well as the frown line on your forehead when I disappointed you. 

I remember walking with you, hand in hand without a care in the world. Sitting in absolute silence, or physically fighting because you refused to accept that I was stronger than you. I remember laughing louder than I had ever laughed before, not paying attention to who was watching. 

I remember laying next to you memorising every detail of your face, your body, even your words.

I remember hugging you tighter than I had ever before, not knowing when I would see you again. Straightening your uniform and being proud that you were going back to protecting us. I can still see me waving goodbye to you as you got onto that bus and left me standing there. You looking through the back window at me and smiling. I remember watching until the bus turned a corner and was no longer visible. Me turning around and beginning to walk home. 

Then everything changed.

I remember the blast, the smell, the smoke, the screams. I remember my heart skipping a beat. I remember chaos ensuing, people running in every which direction around me. I remember not being able to move because I knew. I knew that if I turned around, I would have to accept the fact that I would never see your face again. 

I would have to deal with the pain of not being able to help you. You were gasping for air somewhere and there was absolutely nothing I could do to save you. I remember the stillness. My thoughts overtaking the loudness of my surroundings. I remember the sights. The ambulances, the policemen, the crying Mothers and confused little children. The news cameras, the crowds huddling together.

I remember walking away.

I remember you every day. Having one day in which the rest of the country remembers you as well doesn't take away the pain, but it allows us to share each other's suffering and to find some strange sort of comfort in knowing that we all knew someone, or knew someone who knew someone who had shared in similar final moments with a loved one. 

To this day, when I see that bus stop or that newspaper article, I think about you. I hopelessly wish that bus would come racing around the corner and you would get off, pick me up and tell me you're home. I know it's a wild dream, it's impossible. But...

I miss you is all.

Whether it be losing a loved one in a terror attack, losing a friend during their military service, or even escaping a fatal moment by sheer seconds but knowing you were more lucky than fifty other people, it has happened to most of us. Whether the wounds be fresh from this past year of army operations and/or acts of terror or whether they are fading memories from the beginning of 2000's, they are all just as significant. 

There's nothing worse than a life ending prematurely. In this case, 23,320 of them.

And for those of you who put your lives on the line every day in order to protect the rest of us little people, I want to thank you.

// This story is not my own personal experience but merely a representation and moulding together of different people's emotions, thoughts and experiences. //

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