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This week we marked the 3rd yahrzeit of my eldest son, Moshe Yedidyah. As we gathered around his grave on Mt. Herzl, I asked myself, yet again: how are we supposed to go on living without him? We mustn't give in to sadness. It only harms us, and closes us off from the world. Rather, I'd like to think that Moshe would encourage us to maintain a living memory of him. This living memory encourages us, in his spirit, to lead with responsibility, unity, and, most importantly - love. After all, this is how he would introduce himself to his soldiers: "Hello, I am Moshe. I love this country, and I love the IDF". Now, 3 years after we lost Moshe, I'm looking at words his brother, Neriyah, wrote, to express his love for the army Moshe held dear. Like Moshe, he spoke of the privilege of taking part in this great endeavor of defending the Jewish state. After Neriyah's injury, he arrived at the hospital without a pulse. It's even possible that he briefly visited his older brother, hanging between the heaven and the earth. And, as I was standing at Moshe's grave, I had to ask him for help. I asked him to amplify the prayers we send from here, and to plead with G-d to bring Neriyah back to us, and make him whole again. In the face of the murderous ideology that robbed me of one son, and nearly cost me another, we must do as Moshe would have done, were he still here: stand together, undivided, and fight for our country, which we love so dearly. Shabbat Shalom 🕯️🕯️