A letter addressed to the author David Grossman
By Yael Israel
We never met in person. Once, and now it seems it was ages ago, I interviewed you over the phone. That's all! But when I head about the death of your son, Uri, in the last days of the Lebanon War, I was struck as if I lost a dear friend. Please accept my condolences for his death. I want you to know that I share your endless pain. Yesterday you and your family members have become members of our endless, tragic, inconceivable Israeli bereaved family. This teaches us again that death does not skip over any of the houses in Israel, whether right or left, whether warmonger or war opponent.
At the beginning of the war I was in a state of a shock. As the days went by, I still felt as though I'm in a nightmare. As the war continued, I felt so mad, much more than in our previous wars. And now, when all is left for us to do is to count the dead, the wounded, the cripples and the devastating results of the destruction; when your dear son, Uri, has joined the growing number of deaths that our nation has counted in the last few days, just a moment before the cease-fire begins, I am at a loss of words, as words cannot begin to describe my pain. As I am writing this, my tears are running down.
I do not know any of the people who died in this damn unnecessary war, I didn’t know your son Uri, but I feel that I lost my own children, my own flesh and blood - young and old, citizens and soldiers, women, men, children and babies, Arabs and Jews. I dread getting up next morning, after the cease-fire have begun, when the counting of graves begins. I dread seeing the horrible destruction, and I wonder, who will take care of the wounded, the crippled, and the people who lost their homes, in a country led by a government that abandoned us all during the war.