I remember myself standing for the memorial siren, closing my eyes, shedding a tear at an emotional passage or a sad song.

I've always felt connected to Memorial Day ceremonies. That's what I thought. That's how you feel when you connect. But I never thought that my family would be the one about whom the ceremony was written.

I see the pictures in the news, in the presentation of the ceremony. And it's still hard for me to digest. It is them. That is me.

The last few days I have been feeling fine. We went on a trip, Daddy, Keren, Yehuda and me. We went to a restaurant. They brought me the most delicious food, and I have the car whenever I want.

Suddenly, I realised that more would not be good for me. There is a black hole with me and inside me. It's there all the time. Even when I feel good, I don't really feel good. And in another five years, and in another 10 years, and at my wedding too, this hole will be there.

These days, the house is empty. And everything screams their absence. Someone put a salad in a bag in the fridge. Mummy wouldn't let that happen.

I went to the petrol station and there were complications and I didn't have my mother to explain what to do. I found myself asking for help from someone I didn’t know.

I find little notes that Rina wrote in the room. I see the box of notes I kept from Mummy. Her wedding ring on my hand. In Maia's wardrobe, all her clothes are arranged, waiting.

I was recently sent a recording of Mummy singing Modeh Ani, the morning blessing.

"Almighty God, thank you for restoring my soul in me." But he did not give her back her soul.

And that's all I have left. Her recording. How can you understand that this is all I have left?

I don't have Rina to talk to, nor Maia to guide me, nor Mummy to wake me up in the morning. To sing for me the morning blessing.

I've always connected to Memorial Day ceremonies. That's what I thought. That's how you feel when you connect.

But no one can relate to this pain. Not really. It is impossible to understand what it is to lose a loved one without experiencing it. I have never had such a lack. I never knew what loss was. I thought I understood but I didn't. Even now, I don't understand, I can't come to terms with the fact that this is my reality.

From a family of seven we became a family of four.

You can't digest it. And it's so scary to be so sad. I want to run my life forward, press the fast-forward button to when all this will supposedly be behind me. I am waiting for the days when I will think about Rina and Maia and Mummy and I will be able to breathe and I will not cry. But could it ever be?

I know this pain will not go away. It will never become easier for me.

I've always connected to Memorial Day ceremonies. That's what I thought. That's how you feel when you connect.

And I knew that the evening transition from Remembrance Day to Independence Day was extreme but strong, full of power. But now? Now I don't understand how it can be that Independence Day has arrived. I have no energy to celebrate.

How do you make this transition from grief to joy?

Rina was so excited for Independence Day. She was responsible for a dance with the girls from her youth group in the ceremony, in front of the entire community. She shared with us the difficulties along the way, her concerns and her enthusiasm. But tomorrow I will come to the ceremony at my school, and they will talk about Rina there.

Sometimes, I understand what happened to us and then I can't function. Sometimes I'm idle, I don't believe that this is really my life.

It has no comfort. This hole has no fix. It is hard to believe these days in the resurrection of the dead.

Everyone continues. The sun carries on shining and people post normal social media statuses about normal things. But I stay behind. I don't want photos to document the fact that I'm growing up but Maia and Rina aren't.

In three years, I will be older than Maia. How can this be comprehended? Even people who experienced loss did not experience a triple loss at once. I'm afraid of this loss. Afraid of longing. Afraid of sadness. Afraid to give birth without my mother.

I've always connected to Memorial Day ceremonies. That's what I thought. That's how you feel when you connect.