Weeping for my Brothers

A little over 10 months ago I moved to Dallas, Texas from Tel Aviv, Israel. I had been living in Israel for seven years to the day when I embarked on the unknown in a new place where a loving boyfriend was waiting for me. Each day I recall life in Israel, think about my friends and family, and lament the loss of living in the only Homeland the Jewish people have ever known. 

Eyal Yifrach, Gilad Shaer, Naftali Fraenkel

Today, that pain screams within me. Just a little over two weeks ago three Jewish Israeli teenagers were kidnapped by two soulless men with the backing of Hamas, a terrorist organization hell bent on killing Jews and destroying Israel. For more than two weeks, Jews from around the world gathered together, praying, hoping, and awaiting their safe return. In Dallas alone, nearly 600 people came out for a rally, enthusiastically chanting "Bring back our boys". 

Today, the Israel Defense Forces brought back our boys. Dead. Murdered within hours of being kidnapped on their way home from school. Sought after for two weeks while their bodies were decomposing in a shallow grave in the holy land of our ancestors, their blood joining those who gave their lives for the fulfillment of our 2,000 year old dream- to return to our homeland. 

As I sit here in the middle of America, my heart yearns to be in Israel, comforted by a nation in mourning. We are all family. We all live and breathe through one larger soul- the soul of the Jewish people. I send my love and comfort to the families of the slain boys. I call on my Arab cousins to stand with us in peace and in yearning for an end to suffering, and I weep for my brothers, Eyal, Gilad and Naftali.