'We can finally let go and deal with our grief'
A year has passed since they lost a brother or a father in Protective Edge, but it was only during a delegation to the US that 30 young Israelis allowed themselves to really open up: They laughed, they cried, and they had fun.
LOS ANGELES - It's only there, in a small function hall at the American Jewish University in Los Angeles after a six-day journey, that they allowed themselves to really let go. 31 siblings and children of fallen soldiers, aged 14-17, whose life was changed completely by Operation Protective Edge. There, a year and 12,000 km away from Israel, they could finally talk about everything with friends who are in the same situation as they are.
"In Israel, we were always looked on strangely, and even my closest friends could not really understand what I was going through," says Matan Eliyahu from Kibbutz Evron, the brother of Paz, who fought in the Paratroopers' bomb squad.
As Matan talks, everyone listens and nods in agreement. "Here, everyone can understand me with only one word, and sometimes without even speaking. Here I can share and it'll feel natural and right," he adds.
Linoy Basson, 15, from Holon, is the sister of Staff Sergeant Gal, a fighter in the Yahalom unit who was killed in a firefight in Beit Hanoun.
Photo courtesy of FIDF
"At first, I didn't understand what happened and what it meant to lose a brother. Later, my world came crumbling down," she says. "Gal was my best friend, and it was hard for me to comprehend this, and mostly I didn't have anyone to talk to. My friends from Israel, even my best friends who wanted to listen, couldn't really understand what I was going through. Here, everyone understands me and I now have a new sort of family with a common language and understanding that will accompany us for the rest of our lives."
Gil Etzion is the son of Ze'evik, the head of security for Kibbutz Nirim who was killed on his way to fix a generator that was hit by a rocket. Gil is a fighter in the Artillery Corps who joined the delegation as a guide, along with his younger brother Tal, 15, a charming and captivating boy.
Both brothers, who quickly earned the nickname "Ze'evik's boys," advised their friends in the delegation on how to deal with grief: Like using a lot of self-referential humor, and maintaining a joie de vivre.
Throughout the entire journey, their smiles never faded, which warmed their friends' hearts even in the most difficult of moments, and there were quite a few of those in between the exciting attractions at the city of angels.
"We have our own way of talking, because here you can talk about everything without feeling uncomfortable," Gil explains. "We have songs we wouldn't dare sing anywhere else, only here, and even dark humor which is also a way to deal with grief."
Even on that horrible morning of August 26, 2014, Gil was optimistic. "I got a message a rocket fell in the kibbutz," he recalls. "I called my father, he didn't answer, but I didn't suspect for a moment that something bad had happened. Later, I called my mother and her friend answered the phone. She told me there was an incident in the kibbutz and then I started suspecting. In the second phone call, she told me my father was involved. I thought maybe he was treating the wounded. I kept calling my mother and she didn't answer, so I realized someone bad had happened."
Gil was then at commanders' course in the army, and he remembers well those long minutes that felt like an eternity. "I was confused. I didn't know what was happening and all of a sudden I heard on the news that Ze'evik Etzion, the Nirim head of security, was killed. And then all at once it came down on me. Then I realized it was real."
No one pays attention to them
Each of the teens remembers the exact moment their parents were given the bad news. Here, talking among themselves, they mention a feeling they all share that the aid, support and understanding were all directed at the parents and not so much at the siblings.
"The system knows well how to take care of bereaved parents, while the children and younger siblings are often neglected," says Ilan Har-Gil, an Israeli businessman living in Los Angeles, who lost his brother in the First Lebanon War.
The brother, Captain Ron Har-Gil, was an officer in the Paratroopers' 202nd Battalion and was killed on the fifth day of fighting.
"I was a child then and we were living in Ashdod," Har-Gil recounts. "Early in the morning there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and officers in uniform asked for my mother. I called her and they told her Ron was killed. From that point on, another campaign was being waged - dealing with the grief. After the army, I moved to the US, and whenever I heard about the wars in Israel, I thought about the younger siblings, those who do not always receive attention."
In 2003, at the height of the Second Intifada, when buses were blowing up on the streets, Har-Gil mobilized the Israeli community in Los Angeles in an initiative to bring several families from Israel to California.
"In 2006, after the Second Lebanon War, we made a decision to bring an organized delegation of bereaved siblings for a week, and give them all the best the world can offer," Har-Gil says.
"For me it was coming full circle because when my brother was killed, it felt like there was no support. They talked to and helped only my mother, but not the siblings, and we fell between the cracks and we were confused.
"We brought over 30 children to LA. I wanted to give them a week of fun, a place for them to be heard and understood," he adds.
First Lieutenant Yarden Saadya was 15 years old when she arrived to Los Angeles in that first delegation after the 2006 Second Lebanon War, in which she lost her brother Liran, a fighter in the Egoz Reconnaissance Unit, who was killed in a battle in Maroun al-Ras.
Now, Saadya is an officer in the Air Force and serves as a guide to the current delegation of Protective Edge families.
"We're allowed to say that not everything is okay, we're allowed to fall apart. It's okay that you feel sad and it's a good thing you're together," she tells the kids.
"It's a unique opportunity for them to realize there are more children like them," she explains. "I was always looked at with pity. Here, everyone understands me. It's obvious we have a lot in common, and that's why everyone felt at ease and opened up. In meetings back in Israel, they were still scared, frightened. Now they feel like they have 40 new brothers and sisters. For me, to be a guide here in this delegation is a powerful thing that took me back nine years. I knew how to direct them and give from my personal experience. When my brother was killed, it felt like I had to learn how to walk again. Suddenly it happened, and I was told 'deal with it.' Here, I feel like I'm helping some to start walking again."
A lifelong bond
It wasn't easy to bring everyone on this journey, which marks a year to Operation Protective Edge, and was organized and funded by the Friends of the IDF organization (FIDF) in the US. Some, like Hilel Kahlon, 15, from Hadera, the daughter of Paratrooper Rami Kahlon who was killed during Protective Edge, felt heavy guilt at first."At first I was afraid to come. Like my father died, and I'm having fun because of it," she explains. "My mother told me: 'Go, this is a gift he's sending you from above.'"
Romi Chen, who lost her brother Sharon, a fighter in the Egoz Reconnaissance Unit who died inexplicably in November, was also urged by her mother to join the delegation.
"It's my birthday in two weeks and my mom said, 'Go, this is the gift Sharon is sending you from heaven.' She convinced me," Romi says. "And in retrospect, mom was right. It was important not just because we had a good time, but because it was a valuable trip, which helped empower me and helped me mature. All of the people here talking to you at eye-level rather than down at you. Here, I don't hold myself back. In Israel, my friends panic when I mention my brother. Here this doesn't exist. My grief is not a private thing."
Hodaya Kahlon, 17, the sister of Eliav who served in Battalion 75 of the 7th Division and was killed from mortar fire at a gathering area in Be'eri, came with her younger brother Noam.
"People who haven't experienced grief look at us with pity, you can see it in their eyes. No one likes to be looked at that way. On the contrary, our brothers are heroes. Look at us as siblings of heroes who died for the homeland, and that would cheer us up. This gathering helped us get to a different place. I can look someone in the eyes, and I understand what's happening behind them. It's encouraging, it's empowering. I don't always feel comfortable talking to other people, because I don't want to hurt them, and I feel more comfortable to talk to those who feel the same kind of pain.
"I was also of two minds about whether to come on a delegation I am joining only because of Eliav, and then we said it might be good for us to blow off some steam, and that's really what ended up happening."
Israeli businessman Eli Tene is the one responsible for the current delegation, after recruiting the Israeli community in LA for the mission. "When the fighting just started and there were casualties, I realized we needed to prepare for a delegation of bereaved siblings," he says. "That's when the idea was born. I called Ilan and told him: 'Come on, let's get ready.'"
They toiled for months to plan a dream vacation for the children, which includes everything anyone can possibly want to do in Los Angeles: From tours of Hollywood's most famous sites, to a visit to Universal Studios and a trip to the San Diego Sea World, as well as a day at the famous Six Flags amusement park.
The Israeli community in southern California went out of its way to show its love and support, and unlike many fundraisers, this time the connection to the children was real. Tene and Har-Gil would not allow even a bit of cynicism through.
"There is no pity here, this is a trip of love and support. We're doing something for the sake of doing it, and not to impress anyone," Tene says. "I learned that those who talk and criticize don't always do. Many in the community opened their homes and their pockets and know how to treasure this act of giving."
Tene opened his own home for the last night of the delegation, and invited the Jewish business elite in the US, including Haim Saban, businessman David Hager, Adam Milstein and others.
"This kind of delegation is not just for eight days," he explains. "It's a lifelong bond. We did it in 2006 and we've been in touch with them ever since. There's a united community of Israelis living in Los Angeles and we have two options, either to lose ties with Israel or build stronger ties that can strengthen both communities, and we chose the second option. It's good for us and for Israel."
'I pretended everything was okay'
Tene came to Israel for two orientation meetings for the delegation, invested his money and time in it, and it appears he too created a bond with the children. Along with Har-Gil, the two set up a WhatsApp group for the parents that was updated around the clock with pictures to show them the kids were in good hands.
Every five kids were accompanied by a soldier serving as a guide, who is also a bereaved sibling or child. The delegation was also accompanied by two officers from the IDF Casualty and Wounded Soldiers Department.
Lihi Greenberg, 16, from Hod HaSharon, is the daughter of Lt.-Col. Amotz Greenberg, who was killed when an anti-tank missile was fired at his jeep near the border fence close to Kibbutz Ein HaShlosha.
Lihi shared with her friends the truly difficult moments, when she is alone at night in bed listening to her mother - who throughout the day put on a brave face and remained strong for the children and the family - giving way to her grief and bursting into tears.
"I wanted to show I was the strong one at home, so I kept laughing," Lihi says. "I didn't cry a lot and I tried to show that everything was okay, but today I understand it is okay and necessary to cry and let go, even in America."
"These kids lost those dearest to them, and their lives changed in an instant," says Maj.-Gen. (res.) Meir Klifi-Amir, the national director and CEO of FIDF. "The loss they have to deal with as children and teenagers is hard and incomprehensible. The goal of bringing them to America, as part of the FIDF's program, is to help them smile again, spend time away from their daily routine in Israel, empower and be empowered in the company of those who share the same fate - their peers, who are also experiencing grief and pain.
"Here in the US, they are met with love and the warm embraces of the FIDF supporters, here they are filled with hope and discover that beyond the support they get in Israel, there are Jews across the ocean who feel an immense commitment to the State of Israel, its soldiers, its fallen soldiers and their families. We and our supporters get great joy of seeing them smile, laugh, and enjoy themselves. For us this is an emotional and empowering experience that emphasizes the complex reality of life in Israel."
