I found out that my brother Koby was killed while I was on a class trip. The bus stopped and the teacher got off the bus, and then the guides, and then the driver. When they got back on, they told us that two eighth graders were lost.

It finally happened. I had heard the stories from American and Israeli friends in the past--how people on Year Course 2000-2001 were half of a mile from the Dolphinarium when a suicide bomber killed himself and over 20 young Israelis, and how people on Year Course this year were very close to a shooting in Jerusalem several weeks ago.

Last year, I got a letter from Camp Koby in Israel. It was an invitation to go to camp, and not just any camp. The letter explained that this particular camp was for kids who had lost a family member to terrorism from all over Israel. It'd be 10 days long, would bring together kids both religious and secular, and it would be free of charge.

I traveled to Israel for the last two weeks of 2003 with seven other Jewish teenagers from the North Shore of Boston. The trip was the culmination of a year-long program in our community sponsored by the Jewish Federation of the North Shore, called Youth to Israel, or Y2I. The program combines a year of education and community service with a fully subsidized summer trip to Eastern Europe or Israel.

"Do you see the shape of a heart in the sky with my father's picture in it?" 10-year-old Rachel asked as we were lying on a hammock, swinging back and forth, talking and taking in the beauty that arrived with dusk.