Sar Habitachon Letter - àâøú ùø äáéèçåï, ùàåì îåôæ, ìîùôçåú äùëåìåú. òøá éåí äæéëøåï úùñ"â
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This is the place!
Year to year, as the flag of independence is unfurled atop the pole, the nation of
Amidst the military cemeteries, flowers will be placed on those graves of stone, and the families will be united with their loved ones. Yet, each and every day, for these bereft families, it is a day of remembrance -and the nights overflow with sadness and tears. The pain, though it may be not as searing with the passage of time-in truth, there is no true healing. There on the wall, are the pictures and on the hearts, shreds of memory are etched in endless pain.
Should we somehow wish to find words of consolation, they are not adequately formed. We can but extend our arms with the warmth of an embrace.
Their beloved have fallen on the battlefields as they carried out the duties of Tzahal, in service to the nation and the state. On their young shoulders, the very security of
With all our might, we shall strive to end the wars and make true security with authentic peace, a reality.
We shall treasure with abiding love, with painful gratitude, for eternity the memories of these fallen heroes.
From them, we shall draw inspiration with determination in our struggle for peace, and the symbol of their paths shall be for us an eternal guiding light.