Second chance denied. A tribute to Eyal Yifrach, Gilad Shaer and Naftali Fraenkel…from Sarah Bendetsky
My 7-year-old son really wanted that clay car. His eyes sparkled with joy as he couldn’t stop talking about the colours he would paint it with. No wonder that he opened the package way before we got home.
At the very entrance of our building, my son’s foot slipped. With a loud noise, his clay car smashed on the floor.
– Mummy! Look! – my boy screamed in tears. – It broke! What am I gonna do now?
My first reaction was to start my usual spiel about listening to grown-ups, not opening the package on the street and being more careful… When I was ready tell him off, I glanced at him… My child was in visible pain, 
already remorseful of his action. I sighed, hugged him and promised to fix his car. Though, I didn’t exactly know how; after all, I have 2 left hands to choose from.
For next hour or so we were busy gluing the pieces together, finding a secure place to let the car dry and picking the best paint colours.
My son smiled again and so did I, suddenly realising that I was able to teach him a powerful lesson — not to give up, continue to believe in a dream and take the second chance to do better.
– If you believe in a dream and work hard to achieve it, the miracle will happen. – I told him then. – But try to be more careful next time, anyway.
My boy nodded and ran outside to play.
This rule, however, doesn’t always work as we’ve all learnt from Eyal, Gilad and Naftali’s tragic passing.
No matter how scarce the survival chances were, we continued to believe in a miracle and waited for their safe return. “Perhaps, today? Tomorrow? Next month or next year? At what cost? Well, let’s discuss that later; first, we need to find the boys alive”…
We didn’t.
When the terrible news was finally announced, it was a shock to our souls. The dream smashed at once, and the loud cries of mourning filled so many homes around the planet.
Our boys were killed. Brutally. Cowardly. Inhumanly.
They were denied their second chance to experience the life they deserved – with its summer holidays, laughs of their youth, hugs of their loved ones and clay cars they could’ve fixed with their children and grandchildren…
Why?!
There are so many answers — none of which make sense… And I won’t bother going through them. In the world of broken dreams, hatred and half-truths, the only thing we can do in honour of these three innocent boys is to hug each other more often and to do better in preventing such tragedies in future.
May their souls rest in peace.
