Kaddish for Rani

I knew Ran’s story. You probably did, too. Two years ago on Simchas Torah morning, Ran, a member of an elite police unit, was taking it easy at home while awaiting surgery for an injured shoulder. But when he learned that terrorists were flooding the southern border, he grabbed his gun and — despite his parents’ protests about his injury — hurried to defend his people.

He fought heroically in Kibbutz Alumim, felling many terrorists and helping save the members of the kibbutz, before taking two bullets. As he bled out, the terrorists dragged him to Gaza. His family never heard from him again.

For more than two years, Ran’s parents continued speaking of “our Rani” in the present tense, holding to a pinprick of hope that he might still be alive — even though intelligence assessments established that he had almost certainly died of his wounds.

This year, on a miraculous Hoshana Rabbah morning, all the living hostages were suddenly, stunningly reunited with their families, some of whom had never received any indications their loves ones were still alive. The Gvilis waited for their son. He didn’t return. Then the terrorists began unearthing the remains of deceased hostages, and transferred them to the IDF in a slow, agonizing trickle. The Gvilis waited. Ran still didn’t return.