It's every day,every breath

The national narrative we have about sacrifice for the sake of our land barely scratches the surface of the grief that lives here, too.

The general population weaves in between the soldiers' names released for publication, the terror attacks, and their victims, citizens who have been killed in our existential wars.

We are all just a few degrees away from someone: a friend's brother-in-law, someone your husband used to daven with in shul, a kid you watched grow up. Someone you went to school with, someone from the next town over, a name that feels very familiar.

But for the families who have lost parents, siblings, spouses, relatives-

the young people who have lost friends,

the communities that have lost sons and daughters, leaders and laymen...

The sacrifices of people who put their lives on the line to save others.

Every day people who were trying to live their lives...

One day doesn't quantify or qualify the level of grief among us.

It's every meal time,

or family simcha...

every baby born who is now carrying their name,

every monument established or milestone passed...

incomplete family pictures,

empty, unchanging, bedrooms,

vacant chairs at the table...

It's every day,

every breath.

There is no way to establish a day that holds the enormity of that.

We have no language to explain it or contain it.

But on Yom Hazikaron, Israel stops.

We tell their stories. We visit their graves.

We hold their families, and we all stand in silence.

We listen to the sirens. We bow our heads and honor them.

We reflect on the preciousness of each life, each person a world unto themselves.

And we recommit to living in their name- threading their memories through this land.

And pray for their souls. For our souls.

And the soul of the land of Israel.

May God comfort the mourners of Zion.

May the people of Israel know no more sorrow.