“As long as we are part of the world that Eden and Itay loved so much – they are still here,” says Sergeant Shiran, half to herself, half to me, managing to distill in one sentence the feeling that has accompanied her and her colleague in their role, Sergeant Mika Saadoun, since their brothers fell in the battles in the Gaza Strip. They know well that the loss is far from being left behind, and is integrated in various ways – also in their lives now.
“When my time comes – I will finish my service in the way Eden did not get to”
“I feel that every step I take related to him – keeps him alive,” says Sergeant Shiran, sister of Captain Eden Provisor, may he rest in peace, a platoon commander in the 52nd Battalion who fell on November 18, 2023, during the maneuver in the Strip. About a year after his fall, she decided to enlist in the corps he loved so much, and become an armor instructor. But to understand how she ended up in this specific place, we need to go back a bit.
Shiran, Eden’s sister, may he rest in peace, as part of her role as an armor instructor
“Eden’s story with armor actually started because he didn’t have a high enough profile for combat service,” she recounts. “And still, if you saw him, you would understand that it didn’t really fit – he was a strong guy, trained, and above all, someone with incredible willpower.” It was no surprise when he chose to appeal, go through committees, and eventually reach the 401st Brigade.
There he underwent basic training, advanced training, officer’s course, commanding recruits, NCO course, and finally the role he had been waiting for – platoon commander in the operational battalions. “His life was planned down to the minute, he already knew he was going to a platoon commander course, then studying at a university in New York, returning, continuing to be a battalion commander, brigade commander, and in his view – up to the role of Chief of Staff. He loved the army more than anything, and believed deeply in action and meaning.”
Eden, may he rest in peace, and Shiran in their childhood
When the war broke out on October 7, Eden was actually on a drill in the north. “At first, we were sure he would stay there,” she recalls, “but two hours later we already received a call from him: ‘The company commander and I are going down together by helicopter to fight in the Gaza envelope – I’ll update you.'” Within two days, the battalion was already out for the ground maneuver.
As the tank commander who led the 52nd Battalion, Eden fought for 23 days, until his last breath. On November 18, 2023, while leading his soldiers into Jabalia, he was hit by an anti-tank missile and killed. “Just as in life, so in death, he was at the forefront – a commander with the courage and determination that characterized him,” she says with pride.
Eden knew how to demand without apology, but also to be there for people. “We heard this a lot from his soldiers after he fell – that he was tough and mission-oriented, but also supportive, humane, and considerate. He had a combination of stability and the ability to lead others.”
Later, stories they didn’t know began to emerge. “During the shiva, one of them told us that even during the maneuver, when they were sitting on the beach in Gaza, Eden told him that he felt he wouldn’t return,” she says quietly, “He felt, and in hindsight, one can say that perhaps he even knew, that his plans: his studies, the army, everything that was supposed to come after – would no longer happen. This is a story that is hard for me to process to this day.”
“There are many people who approach me and ask if I am Provisor’s sister”
And despite the great importance of learning the profession itself, the most meaningful moments for her are actually those in between, when concepts that were once only part of her brother’s world – become hers as well. “Eden would always come home with black hands, and I didn’t understand why,” she recalls, “I used to scold him. Suddenly, it’s also a part of me – and my mind immediately goes to Friday dinners with him.”
Even today, in the routine at the base, Eden is always present. “There are many people who approach me and ask if I am Provisor’s sister,” she says, “My throat might choke and my stomach might clench, but I answer with pride that I am. It’s amazing to hear how people talk about him, and how many of them he managed to touch.”
“They speak the language of tankers – and I understand. It brings me closer to him”
Like her friend, Mika, sister of Master Sergeant Itay Saadoun, may he rest in peace, a tank commander in the 52nd Battalion who fell in the Gaza Strip on November 2, 2023, chose to enter the very place she feared most.
“Itay and I were born three years apart, we were close and connected in a way that is hard to explain,” she says. As far as she can remember, it was clear to her that Itay would be involved in a field light-years away from tanks – aviation. “Everyone who knew him knew he had an unusual fondness for airplanes. He was already planning to study and specialize in this field.”
Itay, may he rest in peace, and Mika
When he eventually ended up in the Armored Corps and the 401st Brigade, it was a surprise to those around him, and also a bit to him. But the questions and doubts quickly turned into something else. “I remember him coming home from the base and enthusiastically saying: ‘Who knew a tank could do these things?’ The army was still far from me, so the conversation sounded like gibberish. Today, in hindsight, I understand exactly what he was talking about and how much he lived it.”
Later, he decided to become a tank commander. “That’s how Itay is, the moment something interested him – that’s it, he gave it his all, without stopping.” He met October 7 already towards the end of his service. Two weeks before his release, he entered deep into the Strip, and for a week he fought until the last moment – the encounter on November 2, when he was shot in the chest and fell in battle.
Mika will never forget the moment she discovered her brother was gone. “I was in a national service year in Mitzpe Ramon,” she recounts, “I had just returned home after two weeks on duty. At 11:30 PM, I heard a quiet knock at the door, and to be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to it.”
“At first, I thought it might be a mistake by one of the neighbors,” she continues, “When the knock came a second time, I understood. I remember my mother’s steps towards the door, and me coming out of the room and seeing her crying, with officers behind her.”
The next moments are a bit more hazy, until the shiva, which was difficult – but also strengthening. “You are surrounded by people who talk about him, ask who he was, are interested in him, and in a way, it keeps him alive and present. The complex part came when the ‘official’ mourning period ended, and the silence hit us.”
Unlike her colleague in service and grief, when her enlistment approached, she didn’t think at all that this was the direction she wanted to go. “The casualty officer asked me: ‘What about armor instructor?’ and I was very afraid – after all, only a year had passed since Itay fell, and it was the same corps, the same base, the same places he loved so much, the same triggers. It seemed too close.”
Despite the hesitation, she eventually decided to go to that very place, and underwent basic training and a course where every detail reminded her of Itay. “Suddenly, things he talked about at lunch and didn’t interest me – came back to me.” Meeting his friends from the company and battalion also took on new meaning. “They speak a military language, a tanker’s language – and I understand. It brings me much closer to him.”
“It’s crazy to say,” she shares, “but the connection between us actually deepened after he fell.” Quite a few times, soldiers approached her at the base just because they recognized the family name. “They asked me: ‘You’re Saadoun’s sister, right? We didn’t know him personally, but people talk about him.’ That’s amazing to me.” Professionally, she also tries to follow in his footsteps, to know every small detail and be as precise as he was.
“Suddenly, things he talked about at lunch and didn’t interest me – came back to me”
The 3rd Memorial Day without them
We are talking just before the third Memorial Day without Eden and Itay – another milestone in their immense absence, and a painful reminder of lives that were divided into “before and after.”
“True, there is the national Memorial Day for all of us,” Shiran says honestly, “but what about our private moments of remembrance? When I remember something he loved, when I hear a sentence he used to say, when I see a tanker with black hands from grease. Every such moment is a reminder of Eden.”
“As long as we are part of the world that Eden and Itay loved so much – they are still here”
For Mika too, Itay’s absence is always present, of course, even when it’s not expected. “I always claim that Memorial Day is for those who haven’t lost,” she says with a sad smile, “I am always here in the end – loving, remembering, and living him. Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes a TikTok video that only he would have laughed at, and now I have no one to send it to. A void that is only mine and his.”
And within the pain, one thing continues to strengthen both of them: the knowledge that as long as they are spoken about, thought about, and something is taken forward from them – they remain here.
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