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.

"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.