My wife and I were on vacation in the United States when we got the phone call. The phone call every Israeli family fears, prays will never come, but inevitably most get . Benny and Bat- Sheva were on there way home from paying a shiva call to Benny's parents, who were mourning the untimely death of Benny's 27 year old step brother in a car crash, when tragedy struck again. Just minutes away from their home in Shilo, a terrorist flung a boulder the size of a watermelon through the windshield of their car, hitting little Yehuda in the head. Upon arrival at the hospital it was clear that only a miracle would save Yehuda's life, as his skull had numerous fractures, and within hours it was established that his brain stem was destroyed as well. As I put down the phone, in a state of shock, I began to cry. Although we have all but become accustomed to dealing with heartache and continuous tragedy in Israel, this was different. This was my baby cousin, whose mother I had grown up with. Bat-Sheva was my cousin, my neighbor, my best friend.

We spent a grueling few days in NY trying to get on the next flight back to Israel, finally getting out on Saturday night. Meanwhile, the doctors had declared Yehuda brain dead, and barring a miracle, it was just a matter of time. I prayed that I would make it back to Israel on time to say my goodbye to Yehuda, and be there to comfort Benny and Bat-Sheva.

Upon arrival in Israel, we went straight to the hospital, it was 1:30am. Benny and Bat-Sheva had just put there heads down for the few minutes a night that they allowed themselves, so Yehuda's grandparents, my uncle and aunt, were bedside. My Uncle Jerry had just gotten off the phone when we walked in, and relayed his conversation to me. The phone rang in the ICU at that ungodly hour, and the nurse called my uncle over saying that someone was on the phone asking for a family member. The man on the phone, from Rishon Letzion, said right away that he was not a family acquaintance, nor had he ever met the family, but he could not sleep. He was heartbroken, and called the hospital to see how the baby was doing. He wanted the family to know that he was praying for them, and asked if it would be all right for him to come visit the next day. As I heard about this phone call, and the numerous others that had occurred over the past few days, I realized how Yehuda's condition was truly in the hearts of all Israel.

We went home to catch a few hours of sleep before we would return to the hospital. On the drive back to the hospital we got a call, "It's only a matter of minutes, get here quickly". As we walked into the ICU it was clear that Yehuda had just passed away. I immediately broke down, as my sobs joined the chorus of screams and tears that filled the room. Looking at Benny and Bat-Sheva, I got my first glimpse of their true greatness, courage, and belief. As I stood over Yehuda, wailing, it was Benny who came over to comfort me. As he hugged me, he said that this was all from heaven, and that Hashem had his reasons. Walking around the room, it was Benny and Bat-Sheva who looked to comfort us all.

That evening the funeral procession started at the Prime Minister's office. As Benny spoke, there was not a dry eye in the crowd of thousands. He spoke of how Yehuda's death had united the people of Israel, and had brought them together in prayer. He stressed that we not lose faith in G-ds mercy, and that our prayers will ultimately bring the final redemption that we so long for. Once again it was Benny whose words were of comfort to the crowd. As the procession made it's way from Jerusalem to Shilo, the convoy of cars went on for miles. As we passed the settlement of Ofra, which has lost a number of people to terrorist attacks over the past few months, we were witnesses to a heartwarming sight. Hundreds of residents, men, women, and children, stood by the roadside at 10 o'clock at night as we drove by. They stood in silence, some holding Israeli flags, others with signs that read "we are all Yehuda Chaim Shoham". This scene repeated itself at every settlement that we passed on the way. The pain and love in their eyes was just another sign of the unity Yehuda had brought to our people.

The burial of a 5 month old baby to such young parents is heart wrenching, even more so when he's your cousin. As the tiny body was placed in the grave and Benny recited the Kaddish, we all said our teary good-byes. We prayed that this would be the last death in our fight for the land of Israel.

From Shilo we traveled to Neve Aliza, where Bat-Sheva and Benny would be sitting shiva. The house that Bat-Sheva had grown up in was now her house of mourning. As I recited the passuk upon leaving the home, I was in awe. I had come to comfort them, they had just lost there one and only son, but the opposite was true. They continued to show tremendous courage and faith in Hashem. They strengthened my love for our land and our people, never doubting for a second that we are right and that G-d will prevail.
The courageous message that I got from Benny and Bat-Sheva was loud and clear, we mustn't let this death be for not. Yehuda was just a baby, without sin or enemy, yet he was killed for one reason only, he was a Jew on his way home in Eretz Yisrael. Each and every one of us must act to assure that we are doing our utmost for the people of Israel and the land of Israel. We must return to Israel from the Four Corners of the earth, and we must settle the land. We must return to G-d, for it is only Hashem that can help us through this terrible hour. Help us help ourselves, as we hope to make this the last tragedy to befall Am Yisrael.