This heart-felt and powerful piece by Nurit Amichai comes in via email. Posted in full by permission.

Day of Remembrance for the Fallen Soldiers of the IDF, May 7, 2008

7:35pm, Nadav and I leave our apartment and walk the five or six minute walk over to the military square where people from all over Zichron Ya'akov are gathering for the evening ceremony to remember our soldiers who have fallen in all the wars of modern Israel.

Slowly the square fills up with people of all ages. There were families, children in tow, grandparents, young and old. There were many groups of youngsters, from groups of 12 year-olds, to those who have completed their service and are in their 20's. Young soldiers, parents of soldiers, grandparents, sisters, brothers, family...

As we entered the compound I looked up, and on top of a building stood a young soldier, weapon in hand -- and over on another wall, another soldier, watching. There were armed soldiers at strategic places ensuring the safety of those who have come to honour the lives of others who have died for our freedom. They're so young. Silent tears rolled down my face. I love them. I pray for them.

As I remember "Remembrance Day" in Canada, we had an assembly in school; we made poppies and wreaths and stood at attention for two minutes at 11:00am on November 11th. When I served in the Canadian Military (with pride I might add), I remember the parades and standing with our weapons in front of us and our heads bowed at the cenotaph in town. I also remember that as time went on, the only people who showed up to pay their respects to the fallen soldiers were those who also served in the military or lived through the wars in which Canada participated.

7:55pm, the Soldiers of the battalion stationed here in Zichron, marched out onto the square with two officers. Several commands were made and people were stationed in their places. The Master of Ceremonies then said, "The Flag will be lowered to half-mast, we will observe silence -- please stand". A square full of Israelis stood obediently and silently (a rare thing in Israel on an average day), babies in arms, toddlers in tow, children and adults, and the Flag of Israel was lowered to half-mast. We stood there for two full minutes, everyone silent, and then at 8:00pm exactly, sirens sounded all over Israel -- several in Zichron. The silence was palpable, the impact was solid. Silence as we all turned inward.

"At Ease" -- and "Be seated". The program began -- rabbis prayed, cantors sang, young people shared poetry and a beautiful group of young girls sang. I looked at their 16 year-old faces and thought about them being in service in a couple of years. Silent tears rolled down my face. A Mother came up to share. She lost her son recently. The young girl beside me, maybe 17 years of age sobbed as she spoke. I think she knew him. He's gone. His Mother talks about the need to protect this country, the sacrifice we all make. The girl weeps, a bit louder than before. I offer her a tissue. "Lo, toda. Ani b'seder". No, thanks. I'm okay. The standard Israeli response. I'm okay.

As the various people came to share, as the names and pictures of all those from Zichron Ya'akov who gave their lives from 1938 onward, to protect and defend this country and this people were shown on a large screen as their names were read out, the sobbing and sniffing across the square was quietly audible. Silent tears rolled down my face. I used the tissue.

The ceremony ends with Ha Tikvah -- the prayer of Israel -- The Hope. We sing together, quietly, sorrow is in the air. The ceremony is over and as we turn to leave, I set my eyes on many tear-stained faces. There is sorrow in the Land. As we leave the grounds I overhear an American talking to someone. I don't turn to see, I just happen to drop into the conversation. "North Americans work to get rich; here they work to stay alive". Profound.

The walk home was a slow as it was last year this time; the thoughts as deep and the sense of loss as profound. We honour those who have died to keep this country safe. We honour those who died to help establish this country as the true homeland for the Jewish people. We'll celebrate that event in 24 hours when, at sundown tomorrow night torches will be lit at Har Herzel in Jerusalem and Yom HaAtzmaut will begin. We will celebrate our 60th birthday -- a miracle, to be sure.

I have been asked, and have often heard comment about the extreme change from Yom HaZicharon to Yom HaAtzmaut. From extreme sorrow to extreme joy. Why are these two days kept back to back? There is a reason.

Yom HaZicharon is a very solemn day of remembrance. We remember the loss of life, the cost to establish Israel as a State -- a Homeland for the Jewish people. The price was extreme, and continues to be so.

Yom HaAtzmaut is a day of extreme celebration as we rejoice and celebrate the establishment of Medinat Yisra'el. The State of Israel, Homeland of the Jewish People, from centuries ago to eternity. The honouring of the days come as they do so that we remember the extreme price paid for our freedom and for our Land. There is a cost. Yom HaZicharon reminds us of the price we pay for Independence. And, who doesn't celebrate their independence? So, we celebrate on Yom HaAtzmaut - Independence from all rule outside of THE RULE of THE CREATOR. We have yet to see it fully established in the Land, but methinks it's coming.

As I leave, I ask you to honour the soldiers of your countries. They are paying a price -- their parents and families are paying a price -- so that you can be free. Free to worship, free to vote, and free to curse the government for its failings, free to condemn the soldiers for doing their jobs, free to say what you want, when you want without fear of going to jail. Freedom comes at great cost -- some have given their lives to ensure we get to live in a democracy. Lest we Forget.

Nurit