Like all Israelis, I've been following the story of Aharon Karov since the second or third morning after his wedding. It was January 2009, he was a paratrooper second lieutenant who had been sent home from his unit even as it prepared to join the battles in Gaza so he could marry, then he was called back the next morning. We first heard of the story when his brand new wife was interviewed sending him her love.
Three or four days later he was mortally wounded in Gaza, and his family was called to his hospital bedside to say their farewells. He was not expected to live.
Then he did. My first post about him was from early February 2009, as he was sent from the hospital to a convalescence unit. He looked pretty bad, but he was on the mend, against all expectations. In March 2009 I reported again: he was getting better.
In December 2009 I had more to tell. Aharon and his wife Zvia described their first year of marriage, and an unusual story it was. At the time they were about to go to Arizona, to a hospital Zvia had found to have the world's top surgeon for rebuilding noses (At the time Aharon didn't have one and wasn't bothered, but she was). The final sentence of the interview was by Aharon: "There were always three of us in this story. Zvia, me, and God. The three of us did it together".
This morning Zvia gave birth to their first daughter. Now there are four of them in the story.