In the aftermath of this latest round of warfare between Israel and Iran, many Israelis are left with a sense of deep confusion. We take pride in a remarkable victory, one where a threat to our very existence has been greatly mitigated — if not removed altogether. We witnessed the heroics of our military with awe as they succeeded in waging a war hundreds of miles from our borders. At the same time, however, we remain in pain. We’re in pain from the loss of life and vast destruction; and we’re in pain from the knowledge that our hostages remain in captivity and soldiers continue to fall in Gaza. 

That confusion also leads us to an altogether different reality: the deep and urgent need to restore routine to our lives. We long for it. Parents want to see their children back in school or some other framework. They want to go back to work, take part in familiar activities and restore a sense of normalcy and sanity to the space. We seek routine to gather strength, to believe that life goes on, to show the world the resilience of the Israeli people. We seek the normal routine that so many of us took for granted on Oct. 6, 2023. 

But normal is a very relative term — all the more so in a complex culture like Israel’s, where normalcy has often been tainted by loss. For so many newly bereaved families — too many bereaved families — there is no return to routine. For them, the routine they once knew is gone. They are paying the heaviest and most painful price of this war. While the nation of Israel gradually finds our way back to ‘normal’, their lives have been forever changed. They are only at the beginning of a long and agonizing journey of grief, a journey impossible to imagine for those who have not lived it themselves.

My personal journey began nearly two and a half decades ago, and despite the passage of so much time I am forced to concede that my life’s experiences reinforce that understanding that any “real normal” will always remain elusive.  As a 10 year-old girl, my childhood innocence was permanently shattered when my brother Koby and his friend Yosef Ishran were killed at age 13 while hiking in a canyon near our home. My parents, with foresight and bravery for which I am forever indebted, immediately recognized that while our lives would always be associated with Koby’s murder, they would not allow that horrific moment to define them. 

That understanding served as the principle upon which the Koby Mandell Foundation was created and remains committed to until today: While victims of tragedy will always live in a new and different reality from the rest of their surroundings, we don’t deserve to be looked upon with pity, but rather with the understanding that our personal, communal and national pain will not defeat us.  

In the wake of this most recent war, we are reminded that our natural desire and strength as a country to move forward must not cause us to forget the price that the people of Israel have paid — and that so many families continue to pay, every single day. We are grateful the overall toll of this latest war was less than we feared, and we know that it could have been worse; but for these bereaved families, this is the worst. This is their unimaginable loss.

In the coming days, the Koby Mandell Foundation will kick off its 23rd year of Camp Koby, an annual “escape” for young victims of tragic loss.  This year, the camp will be filled with over 750 Israeli kids. It will be the largest group in the camp’s history — the Oct. 7 attacks and the ongoing war significantly affected enrollment.

I take considerable strength from recognizing that the vision that inspired my parents in those early days after Koby’s murder remain ever-relevant today. In order for these families — and indeed our nation — to rebuild, grow from the devastation and find strength through their pain in true post-traumatic growth, we need to build a community of caring based on empathy and ultimately understanding that our lives will never be the same. 

And that no one can walk this path alone. 

Painfully, yet blessedly, Israel is a nation that recognizes this truth. We are a society that does not forget and does not look away. Even in our greatest moments of victory, we pledge to never leave the bereaved behind. 

Eliana Mandell Braner is the executive director of the Koby Mandell Foundation, which provides therapeutic support, community-building opportunities and educational initiatives to help individuals and families cope with the devastating impact of trauma and tragedy.