There were injured and dead all around us. How is it that we just walked away?

As a born and bred Baltimorean, I deeply appreciated the fact that my chassan, too, grew up in my hometown. It made connecting that much easier, not to mention the logistics of dates, the vort, and shopping. But my father, who lives in Eretz Yisrael with his second wife, was feeling a bit left out. “Tsiona, why don’t you and Yaakov come visit? There’s nothing like exploring Eretz Yisrael with the person you plan to spend your life with, and we’ll make you another l’chayim here.”

He was quite persuasive, plus it was a paid trip to Eretz Yisrael. How could we say no?

And so, after receiving instructions from our rav — not to spend too much time alone together and that Yaakov should keep a steady morning seder — we were off. We arrived Tuesday evening, slept off the jetlag, and spent Wednesday catching up with friends and family. Yaakov made sure to stick to his seder, my father enthusiastically approved of my choice in chassanim, and it seemed to me that life couldn’t get better. By the time Thursday rolled around, we were overdue for a trip to the Kosel Hamaaravi.

Yaakov headed off to learn, I went to meet a friend by the Bell Tower on Rechov Yaffo, and we made up to meet afterward at the corner of King George and Yaffo to catch a bus to the Old City.

It was the summer of 2001, and the Second Intifada was in full swing, but we were too high on life to tap into the fear. As I hugged my friend goodbye after our coffee date, I remarked, “I know they say it’s a war zone here, but I really don’t feel it.”

Yaakov was waiting for me at the corner and after inquiring about my morning, he said, as thousands of yeshivah bochurim have before him, that he would love a falafel. But since we were standing in front of a pizza store, he would practice mesirus nefesh and instead settle for some pizza. We entered Sbarro’s pizzeria, ordered, and went up the back stairs to the dimly lit eating area. It was around 1:30 pm. I went downstairs to give the teenage boy behind the counter a shekel to use the restroom, went back upstairs to do so, and then sat down again with Yaakov. A man came to our table to ask for tzedakah, we handed him a few shekels and continued murmuring in that excited, comfortable way of chassan and kallah.

And then we were thrown forward in our seats with a tremendous, ear-splitting BOOM.