By Rachel Liel, New Israel Fund Board President
I was 23 years old when I became an ‘army widow.’
Ziv was killed in the Yom Kippur War. We’d been married two years. It was then that I learned intimately about loss. Since that moment, the phrase “army widow” has been a part of who I am. And that part of me is especially present on Memorial Day.
But this Memorial Day is different. We come to this Memorial Day battered. On October 7 most of those murdered were not in uniform. Nor were most of the abductees—including women, old people, children. Every new report of another casualty from this cursed war makes pressing on more difficult.
This Memorial Day is for so many. It is for the soldiers—children, spouses, parents—whom we’ve lost. But it is also for the families of the hostages who will not come back. It is for the hostages who we still must save. It is for the countless displaced families living in a home that is not theirs. And it is for all of us, for whom the memory of a normal life is becoming more and more distant.
But with all the sorrow I feel, I also believe that this moment can be a turning point. We can transform our pain into determination—we can create a different future.
I have not lost hope.
I have not lost hope because, at NIF, I am surrounded by people who inspire me. Even when their eyes fill with tears and their hearts grow heavy, these are people who refuse to give up on our vision of Israel as a democratic country rooted in justice, rooted in the notion that of Jews and Arabs are equal, rooted in the knowledge that we can end this conflict such that Israel and Palestine will live side by side in peace and security.
I have not lost hope because I have found inspiration in all of the Israelis who have gone out of their way to help, to support, to feed, and to care for others. After October 7th, these people housed evacuees when the government was still paralyzed. They created informal education systems for children. They helped fund mental health care for those suffering from PTSD. These are some of the same Israelis who also feel the pain of the innocent and hungry Palestinians suffering on the other side of the border, and who mobilized aid for these Palestinians even as the cannons continued to fire.
Every Memorial Day for many years, I make sure to attend both the state ceremony and the joint Israeli-Palestinian ceremony. The first connects me to the widespread Israeli experience, to memory and to consensus. The second, which NIF proudly supports, gives me hope for the future. Even this year, in the shadow of the destruction that surrounds us, I know that I will witness bereaved families who refuse to give up the opportunity to be part of a shared Israeli-Palestinian ceremony whose purpose is not only to be rooted in the past – but rather to see the promise of the future.
They won’t lose hope. Neither will I. The stakes are too high.
This Memorial Day will come to an end, like every year in Israel, with a quick transition to Independence Day. I can’t say how this transition will feel this year, but one thing is certain: Our future is not preordained. Our future can be better than our past. Our future is in our hands.
Join me in this effort.