The price that appears in no index: This is the true cost of living in the State of Israel
Behind the discourse on the cost of living hides a much heavier price, which is not measured in numbers. The Israeli reality exacts a deep emotional toll, and the struggle against it requires listening, responsibility, and the ability to identify distress before it is too late. A special column in memory of the late Asaf Dagan.
There are moments when our language becomes too poor to contain reality. We are used to talking about the "cost of living" and thinking immediately of numbers, of the busy routine, and of the daily struggle to build economic stability. But alongside all this burden, we are afraid to stop and ask the most painful question: what about the price of our soul? How expensive is it to us?
Once you look inside and listen to the heart, you understand a simple truth. The true, pure, and most bleeding cost of living is not the price we pay to sustain our routine — life itself is what is truly precious, the heart and soul of each and every one of us. It is a cost of living that no one dares to call by name: the price that the Israeli reality exacts from our soul. A quiet, wounded, and bleeding price that leaves us with fragments that cannot be measured on any graph.
This price is measured in soldiers, both men and women, in combatants, in regular service and reserves, and in civilians who have supposedly returned to routine — but their soul has remained bound and bruised within a quiet battle that does not let up. Dealing with the mental wound is not new, but since October 7th, the fracture is deeper than ever. In recent times, we have been witnessing a staggering wave of suicide cases and transparent extreme distress. It touches the best of our sons and daughters — and we must internalize: asking for help, crying out, and admitting pain is not a weakness, but the greatest moral virtue and heroism. There are ways to treat and there is comfort to offer, but for that to happen, we are all called upon to develop more delicate attention, to stop for a moment, and to allow a safe place for anyone carrying pain hidden from view.
Today, August 12, they are marking at the cemetery the birthday of the triplets — Neta, Inbal, and Asaf Dagan. Major Asaf Dagan, of blessed memory, a reserve combat navigator who served and dedicated his all for the country, carried with him a transparent and burning wound and took his own life about two years ago. His parents and sisters fought relentlessly until his family succeeded in having him recognized as an IDF fallen soldier, even though it is not the full recognition he deserves. The wonderful and noble Dagan family did not stop there. They fight every day for others — so that the story of those struggling with similar distress will be written differently, for the sake of other families for whom it will not be too late, and they will not have to deal with the agonizing feeling that perhaps it could have ended differently.
From right to left: Asaf, Inbal, and Neta Dagan (photo courtesy of the Dagan family)
Asaf's story, of blessed memory, reminds us how vital it is to simply look into the eyes, to be truly present, and to identify distress when it whispers. Out of the family's moving struggle, we have submitted together a bill that will require the IDF to check and act on every request from a first-degree relative alerting to mental distress. The families are the first to feel the tremor, and they are the ones who cry out the cry from a love that is unconditional.
In his letter, Asaf left words that today take on a different meaning, words that became part of his testament for his parents and sisters who continue to act and choose life for the sake of others: "You have all the time you need for things that are truly important to us, to touch, to be attentive and present. You will be surprised how many things can be seen and felt if only there is attention. Maybe it is possible to stop and help someone, maybe it is possible to ease, maybe it is possible for a moment to create a world a little better and more pleasant than this world. Mean your words."
Today, on the birthday of the amazing triplets, amidst the pain and deep longing, I want to wish us all that we will merit to experience and spread this pure and deep love that sustains the members of this family. Suicide is not a decree of fate. Our human and moral duty is to be there for one another in the quiet battle for life: to provide comfort, to listen in time, and to choose every day anew to create here a world a little better, more compassionate, and optimistic. In the end, human life is what is truly precious to us. I offer a deep prayer that we will continue to walk together on this journey, and bring the repair that we all so need.
