Children are fighting, parents are breaking: The invisible wound of the war | Shay Lahav

Last Saturday, at the beach, I happened to meet a friend I hadn't seen in a very long time—at least two years. He looked much older (amazing, only I don't age). But what sharpened the change was not necessarily physical characteristics, but a new expression on his face, the nature of which I soon understood. His two children have been fighting continuously since October 7, in Gaza and in Lebanon, and it seems he is fighting along with them. He was involved in every detail, tried to know what was happening with them at any given moment, and mainly—plunged into a black, existential anxiety that only someone whose child has been sent to war can understand the depth of.

I understand. My eldest son has been drafted for hundreds of days in combat reserve duty since that Black Saturday, and I know well the endless fears, the uncertainty, the horror of a knock on the door... And that is, as mentioned, "only" one child. Before my younger, combat-soldier son is drafted soon—tfu, hamsa, and all their relatives. This friend of mine, it seems, took it hard. In the little time we managed to talk, he told about the decrease in his social connections, about the loss of the joy of life. And concluded by saying that he is still in trauma.

Now you will surely say, this whole country is still in trauma. And that is true. But traumas also have different values, which differ from each other dramatically. Just as one cannot compare, say, sincere and deep anxiety for the fate of the hostages you don't know personally, to anxiety for the fate of your child who is currently in combat inside a village in Lebanon.

And that is exactly the point. When talking about equality in the burden, the intention is not only for the soldiers sent to the front, but also for the close circles around them. Those who are indeed not exposed to physical danger, but are becoming mentally scarred—from duty to duty.

And if it seems to you that what I am writing here refers to the recent past, that is, to a war that has already "ended", it only testifies to the magnitude of the disconnect in Israeli society between families of combat soldiers and the rest of the families. Which are, statistically, the absolute majority. Because in that pleasant lounging on the beach, I met other friends whose children are currently in the reserves. One started a two-month duty, the second is finishing a three-month chapter. My son returned not long ago from almost two months in Syria. Since most sectors are quiet right now, at least at the time of going to press, the anxiety index is decreasing. And yet, imagine that your son is at an outpost inside Syria, and think about how that affects sleep quality, for example.

I mean to say—we are still inside the event, and by "we" it is also meant the parents, siblings, partners, grandparents, and so on. Every fighter is a whole world. In a proper country, with proper priorities, the parents of the fighters would also receive benefits. For example, participation in psychological therapy for those who want it, or funding for an annual vacation that will allow them to breathe a little.

But these material benefits, important in themselves, are not the main issue. What is? Awareness. And following it, appreciation. It cannot be that people like that friend of mine walk among us stunned and scarred, because they educated their children to contribute the most precious thing for the sake of the public, and remain completely invisible. Forced to carry this burden alone.

The loneliness involved in this situation is perhaps the cruelest factor, and I say this from experience. The feeling that people who are supposed to be close to you—friends, colleagues, neighbors—are unable to understand what you are going through and worse—don't even try—can drive you crazy. And also lead, as in the case of my friend, to a significant loosening of social ties. During the difficult periods of the war, I too was dragged into a kind of emotional bookkeeping, where I examined those close to me according to the extent of their interest.

This is not a recommended conduct, on a personal level. Everyone has their own files and problems, certainly since October 7. But on a national level, this bookkeeping is more than justified. Because if the state claims that the burden of combat service is inevitable, it must exalt those who are called to service. Including the families of the soldiers, who in many ways are fighting along with them.

On the knife's edge

1. The "invasion" of migrants from Morocco into Spanish territories in North Africa should raise the question—why on earth does Spain still have territories in North Africa? The same Spain, which is so sensitive to the rights of the occupied Palestinian people. Similar to England, which insists on controlling the Falkland Islands located on the other side of the world, etc. The hypocrisy, it has no end.

2. "Two Weeks in August" (Cellcom TV) may initially seem like a series in the "White Lotus" genre. A few English couples arrive for a vacation on a magical Greek island, etc. But very quickly it turns out that it is a version for the middle class, not to say the broke, that the host island is the opposite of luxury and that the final result is a bit deeper than the "Lotus" version. In short, recommended.

3. I recommend less the documentary series "The Idaho Murders" (Netflix). A classic example of how to inflate a story that holds one movie into three full episodes. When along the way there are almost no plot twists or extraordinary surprises, as required in the true crime genre. The case itself, in which four students were murdered inside their home, is horrific. But the series is superficial and dragged out.