Lev* has always been the strong one. As a child, he arrived in Israel from Russia with his family carrying little more than hope. He learned early-on that life would not be easy. There were years of financial struggle and lack of food on the table. The loss of his mother when he was still a teenager was devastating. There was always the quiet, constant pressure of building a life from nothing. But Lev never complained. He worked hard at school and became an electrician. He married and built a home. He raised five children and now he is blessed with grandchildren. He became the steady center of his family.
In Sderot, where sirens are a near daily occurrence, Lev taught his children resilience and strength. He taught them love of family – love of God and love of Israel. He instilled in them Faith (Emunah) in tomorrow. Lev believed he had prepared them for anything. He was wrong.
October 7th
On that morning, his son Ari* — a devoted husband and father of three himself, went out with his two brothers-in-law and a young nephew to what should have been a simple, joyful outing. When the sirens began, they did what everyone in the south of Israel has learned to do:
They tried to go home.
They never made it.
Their car was ambushed.
Gunfire.
Chaos.
Terror.
Only one brother-in-law survived — lying for hours among the bodies in the vehicle, pretending to be dead, listening to silence, where only moments before there were voices.
The Days of Not Knowing
Back in Sderot, Lev waited.
He kept trying their cell phones.
He searched and went to the police.
He prayed – he hoped. Hours became days.
On October 10th, the official confirmation came.
There are no words for the moment a father is told his son is dead.
No language that can hold that kind of pain and grief.
Lev did not scream.
He folded inward.
A pillar suddenly cracked.
Grief and Responsibility
But even in grief, Lev remained a strong father and husband.
He held his wife as she broke.
He comforted his grandchildren who could not understand why their Abba (father) wasn’t coming home.
He stood beside the one surviving brother-in-law, who carried the unbearable weight of survival.
And then, when the house grew quiet at night, Lev allowed himself to feel the emptiness and unrelenting pain.
Today, more than two years later, Lev has started receiving intensive therapy and counseling at the EMUNAH Crisis Counseling and Family Therapy Center in Sderot. He has begun to navigate the painful journey of bereavement and healing.
He honors Ari’s memory in small ways:
Lighting candles in his honor.
Saying Kaddish (prayers of mourning for the deceased).
Attending Shabbat and Holiday services at the Synagogue.
Lev honors Ari and all those lost on October 7th by choosing to live – to Stand Tall and Proud as a Jew – and as an Israeli.
Not because the pain is smaller.
But because love is greater.
* Names have been changed to protect privacy.
