The Precious Words of a Fallen Soldier
A Song based on the words of my nephew, Ephraim Jackman, z''l
Tonight is the yartzeit, the first anniversary, of my nephew Ephraim, who fell in Gaza.
Ephraim was part of “Hesder,” a program in the army where young men enlist for 5 years, and part of that time is spent studying Torah and part is spent as soldiers in uniform, training— and when needed, fighting. Ephraim had just finished the period in which he’d spent months training, and was very happy to know he would go back to his studies following the Simchat Torah holiday. Of course, the events of that Simchat Torah changed his path completely, as it did for countless others, and that very day he put on his uniform and went to fight.
Ephraim remained on the front line for months, returning home for only three days one day last Tevet (January). As he neared his parent’s home, however, he didn’t head straight there, but rather to the shloshim, the 30-day memorial for his friend Eitan Rosenzweig who’d fallen in Gaza. He hadn’t been able to be at the funeral, and this time honoring his friend was crucial to him.
Ephraim wrote the words to the song I bring here in translation, for he felt he’d missed really seeing who Eitan was. The next day he went to visit Eitan’s grave, and as he stood in an empty row facing graves of other fallen soldiers from Gush Etzion, someone shot a photo of him standing near it, though not exactly next to it.
Ephraim headed back to the front and fell in battle only a few days later. Movingly, and disturbingly, Ephraim was buried in the exact spot he’d stood only a few days prior, beginning a new row in the military section of the cemetery that has tragically now been filled.
Ephraim was 21 years-old when he died, and he left behind a journal full of writings that belay depth and wisdom well beyond his years.
I miss him. I miss not having seen fully the precious gem he truly was, and the larger gem I am certain he would have grown to be. I am thankful for the moments I did see how uniquely special he was. And I stand in awe at his family’s strength, in their mourning, and in their living.
May our part be in Torah as well.