Inspiration from Zion: This is a Love Story

“I have bad news.” 

When your son calls and says he has bad news, you hope he’s talking about a test that didn’t go well. 

“It’s really bad news.” 

He wasn’t talking about a test. 

“You know the Hezbollah attack that happened this morning (April 17) where 18 were hurt, a number seriously and one mortally? My friend Dor was there with his soldiers. He’s the one who is mortally injured.” 

His good friend Dor. They studied together.  He helped Dor pull off a storybook engagement to his beloved Shir. They went out together, along with their respective girlfriends. Studied, shared experiences, celebrated together.  

He called, telling us he was on the way to the hospital. To Dor. 

The next day, we went to the hospital too. Dor’s friends, including our son, were there, with Dor’s parents and fiancé. They were staying together in a waiting area outside the intensive care unit. Visitors are not typically allowed inside the ICU. One person at a time, usually only the closest family members, for short periods of time could be with their loved one.  

But the hospital staff also understand that sometimes the definition of family needs to be expanded.  

Our son told us he and his girlfriend went in to speak to Dor. In a medically induced coma, intubated it’s not clear what he could hear, and he certainly could not speak but maybe he could hear that family and friends were there to support and encourage him.   

We spoke with Dor’s father, asking if he needs anything. He asked: “Do you know how to make Nissim come?” 
 
Nissim means miracles in Hebrew. Sometimes, it’s a man’s name. Dor’s father was using a pun. In this unspeakable situation, he could control words. He was obviously trying to teach his heart what his mind understood about his son’s condition.  

Dor needs a miracle.  

I told him: “We can’t really help but you are surrounded by people who are here for you. And sometimes, miracles DO happen.” 

Shir was sitting on the side, surrounded by friends. Someone said something about marriage, and she answered brightly “We’re getting married in a month and a half!”

It’s amazing how you can sit still when you feel like your heart is being squashed and simultaneously yanked out of your throat. 

A love story, a Hollywood proposal, she dreamed and prepared to celebrate the happiest night of her life… it isn’t supposed to be like this. 

A room full of quiet people with red eyes. Waiting. It is terrible to see your son with an aching heart and smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. We left. He stayed. The friends aren’t going to leave Dor.  

Numb and simultaneously drowning in emotions, we decided to visit the other wounded soldiers. We needed to see life and hope.  

The soldiers were given part of a ward, for themselves. They were surrounded by friends, family and people taking care of them.  

One soldier was being moved. His young mother hovered near him, worried, not sure what to do with herself, how to take care of her son. We walked with them to the ambulance that was going to take him to a different hospital, one where they have more expertise in dealing with the type of wounds he has. 

He told us that he has shrapnel lodged in his neck, in addition to what we could see in his arms and face. Although afraid for himself, he wanted to hear about Dor, his officer. He told us: “I was right next to Dor when the explosion happened. There was the explosion, and I was full of shrapnel, bleeding all over. Bleeding terribly. But the adrenaline made me get up. I got up and Dor didn’t.”   

It wasn’t our place to tell him about Dor, but he asked lots of questions. Being worried about his officer wouldn’t help him heal. Being shocked when told about Dor wouldn’t help either. We walked lightly in this terrible situation and just said: “He’s not in good condition.” What we could do wholeheartedly was provide encouragement and some strength for him and his mother. They have a long road ahead but, with the help of excellent doctors, he will eventually be ok. 

While the country is focused on attacks from Iran and the war with Hamas in Gaza, few are paying attention to the war with Hezbollah in the north. Dor’s family and friends haven’t left his side since he was wounded. Heartbroken but together, hoping for a miracle. 

Dor’s mother is asking for prayers for her son: Dor son of Sharon Sarah 

May we merit a miracle! 

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Update: April 21st

This is what heartbreak looks like.  

Our son called us with the news, before it was released for publication. Today, IDF Maj. (res.) Dor Zimel succumbed to his wounds. He was just 27 years old. He leaves behind his parents, siblings, and his fiancé Shir. They were supposed to be married in a month and a half.  

May God avenge his blood.  

We prayed for a miracle for Dor. Now we are left to pray for his beloved Shir, Dor’s family, and friends. May their hearts find comfort.  

The funeral is tomorrow (April 22), at 12:00 in Even Yehuda. Passover eve.  

Thinking about it makes it hard to breathe. As if the grief is not enough, the holiday cancels the shiva, the ritual days of mourning. How can the religion demand the holiday be celebrated when your heart to ripped to pieces?  

The shiva is very important in the healing process. At the same time, our holidays are crucial elements in the story of Israel which is much bigger than any individual. Passover is the holiday that marks, celebrates, and passes on to the next generation the covenant between God and the Nation of Israel. The holiday is so important that it is the preamble to the 10 Commandments. In the Haggadah we remember not just that we were slaves in Egypt but that in every generation enemies rise up to destroy us and God saves us. Every time.

It is like we are being waterboarded with sorrow. We are drowning in the pain of our wounded nation, the hostages still in captivity, our soldiers fallen in battle, and the wounded. October 7th is not over. From the individual to the national, from grief to celebration, the heart rips apart and it is hard to breathe.  

It is unbearable and yet we must.  

Dor’s loss is a wound that can never heal. The ripples of grief spread far. His family. His beloved Shir. His friends. Our son. His soldiers. May God strengthen and comfort them.

On the morning of the Seder we went to Dor’s funeral.

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