We can’t forget
Two years. Two years since we woke up to a different era. Two years since our brothers and sisters were massacred, raped, tortured, captured, kidnapped. Two years since the illusion of safety crumbled. Two years of hell.
And the initial shock and grief, and chest pain and devastation have slowly turned into normalcy, because I guess that’s what people do, we move on and we adapt and we deny and we ignore and we pretend that everything is normal, everything is ok. And we go out to concerts and comedy shows, and we eat burgers and ice cream and we laugh and we take the kids to the movies, and we plan hikes and we host friends and we drink wine and rejoice in the sukka. And yes, we read the news every day and we know that our hostages are still there, and we read that a soldier was killed or injured, and our heart aches and we say “Hashem ishmor”, and we maybe stand with an Israeli flag on the road to the cemetery or we say a prayer, or we shed some tears, or we listen to a melody and our heart sinks. But then we put the flag in the trunk and we go to the supermarket and we take the kids to their chug, and we organize playdates and we answer emails and we sing the songs in K-pop Demon Hunters, and we call our friend and we grab a cold coffee and we forget. We forget because that’s the only way we can get up in the morning and function. We pretend life is normal and we act as if.
But the hostages can’t forget. Their families can’t forget. And the mothers and fathers, the spouses and children of soldiers, they can’t forget. And they are expected to function, to keep going, to turn this into an uncomfortable background noise, into a splinter in the foot, it hurts and it bothers us but we ignore it and we keep going, we function. But they shouldn’t function, and we shouldn’t expect them to. We shouldn’t yell at them when they are distracted and don’t see the light turn green, or criticize them when they’re late for school, or demand more from them at work. We shouldn’t talk to them about the price of milk, or the heat wave, or the new burger place in town. Because nothing is normal. And while we pretend life goes on as usual, they are living and reliving a nightmare. They are paying the price that we all should bear. They are crumbling, and we should hold some of the weight so that they don’t collapse.
Nothing is normal. Let’s not forget for a second.
