The Yom HaShoah siren is a terrible, painful thing to hear.
It is a sound firmly rooted in the past, but calling out to us here and now, across the ages.
It is a sound that affects each of us standing in respectful silence, differently.
We may remember, we may mourn, we may mark, we may mull, we may malign.
And we also may momentarily feel a spark of pride at what has been achieved since the Holocaust: a living, thriving, vibrant proof of survival of the Jewish people and more.
When the siren ends, we return from the past to the present, and think about the future.
Past? We have remembered.
Present? We remember.
Future? We will always remember those who perished; we must.
We think thoughts both negative and positive.
Negative? Never again.
Positive? Never again will the Jewish people have no land to call their own. Never again will the Jewish people have no sanctuary from tyranny, oppression, and hate.
And at the end, we know:
Am Yisrael Chai. עם ישראל חי