Memorial Day? Just give me a day of oblivion.

Haredim 10
April 22, 2015   
Remembrance Day is called this, a cursed and cursed day, a cruel and unnecessary day • After all, those who have not been touched by death cannot remember. And those who have already been touched cannot forget • And I was there. And I was touched. And all in all, I want to forget
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The following text was written by G., an IDF officer, in an internal WhatsApp group, uploading the image attached here.

""This, for me, is the picture of war.".

A brief coffee and cake break at the height of the inferno, when underneath it you can see the diary of the fallen, containing a list of those killed that day.

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So for some of us these are stories.

"For me, these are names. And faces. And friends. And families.".

יומן מלחמה

I asked him to write a book about it.

 And this is what he replied:

No, I don't want to remember.

Not anymore.

They call it Memorial Day, a cursed and cursed day, a cruel and unnecessary day.

After all, someone who has not touched death cannot remember.

And those who have already been touched cannot forget.

And I was there. And I was touched. And overall I want to forget.

The faces and names, the friends and families, the sights and smells, the blood and tears.

Because I was there.

I touched death.

And every day is a day of remembrance, without a moment of blessed forgetfulness.

So give me only a day of oblivion and annihilation, not a day of mourning and remembrance.

A day when I won't see the dozens of dead children I cared for.

A day I won't mention to them.

Just one day that I can forget the wedding ring on the murdered man's finger, and the pictures of his children in the pocket of his soiled shirt.

A day when the phone in my pocket won't ring, and I'll remember the man whose phone rang in his pocket and the word "mother" flashed on the screen.

A day when the sight of a soldier wearing a disk won't make me imagine him any differently, wearing a white "death march" on his wrist.

Because I remember them.

Everyone.

Every single one of the 'Protective Edge' casualties.

They were all my sons.

And yet.

And there's no need for a siren, and there's no need for a day.

The memory is vivid and tangible, gaping like an abyss.

So give me only a day of oblivion and annihilation, not a day of mourning and remembrance.

(G, casualty identification officer in the Gaza Division during Operation Protective Edge).


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