I was not physically at Menora Mivtachim Arena yesterday, July 2, 2024, but my restless and anxious soul was there. Every word spoken on that stage was an open wound, a mirror of our collective pain.

Recently, I read Ayelet Tsabari’s “Songs for the Brokenhearted.” It’s a novel about grief and love, mothers and daughters, and the complexities of Sephardi and Israeli identity — set, in part, in 1995 ...