I come from the village of Aishiya in south Lebanon, but I also lived for many years in Beirut. I still have family and friends there. The city flows through my veins. Since the explosion, I've lost all contact with them. There are no telephones. Facebook - just barely. It's still hard to evaluate the damage, the extent of the blast. But the heart is full of longing, and the explosion in the port has created a deep crater in my heart.

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In fact, my Lebanese heart has been broken for a long time now. Lebanese society is crumbling, the Paris of the Mediterranean is sinking. The economic difficulties and political crises have only brought despair. Hezbollah has kidnapped a whole country, under the auspices of Iran. Weapon storages hidden under homes, missiles stockpiled all over the country.

They kill civilians, assassinate rivals, torture protesters, assassinate the spirit and soul of a whole country. A people without water and no electricity, without money, without air, without a future. A horrible entity is devouring the Lebanese people from the inside, and the Lebanese people cry in pain. In their despair, the youth, and not only them, go out to the streets. Despairing from the economy, the politics, the corruption; risking a violent response from the regime. They have nothing to lose. And then came the blast.

But what has happened is not just another disaster. A church collapsing on its congregants mid-prayer, a father killed while tending for his baby, brothers losing their lives together, numerous people injured. A terrible illustration of another outbreak, of the bomb ticking inside the state and society in Lebanon.

Don't treat it as another humanitarian disaster or multiple casualty incident. Don't take it out of context. See it as a clear signal, a call to awaken, a desperate call: the Lebanese people are under the fascist occupation of Hezbollah, and the Lebanese society needs the world's help.

Youngsters who want to progress, families who want to blossom, adults who want to enjoy the beautiful years – Hezbollah has taken it all from them.

The freedom, the prosperity, the life; they are under no less than an Iranian occupation, and this occupation sees them as cannon fodder, no more. If the world really wants to help Lebanon, it must not only be through medical assistance or help in rebuilding infrastructure. Help the Lebanese people free themselves from the Iranian stranglehold. That's the only way.

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I am not moved by this apology; in fact I find it infuriating. I can only speak for myself, but I believe quite a few of my brothers and sisters in the South Lebanon Army community in Israel are now asking themselves: Where is our apology?

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I am a bereaved daughter and sister. Quite a few Israelis, mainly IDF officers and senior defense system officials who dealt with southern Lebanon within their framework of their service, know my family as the "dynasty of death." My father, four of my brothers and two of my nephews were killed in that terrible war in South Lebanon. My brothers were wearing South Lebanon Army uniforms when they fell in battle. I was recently recognized by the Defense Ministry as a bereaved sister.

I have lived in Israel since the 1990s. I built a life in Haifa, established a family and sent my sons to serve in the military. I do not regret this. As the daughter of a South Lebanon Army family, I continue to believe in the historic alliance between the Israel Defense Forces and the South Lebanon Army. I also believe that there is more to this alliance than security interests. We are joined together by common values, a shared war ethic, and I also believe, a shared destiny. Those who have not fought shoulder to shoulder, and those who were not there and did not witness this comradeship with their own eyes cannot understand the significance of this alliance. I remember, as a girl, my parents hosting IDF soldiers, officers, and sometimes very senior IDF officers, in their home. We treated them like family, no less.

Who would have thought that the day would come when this alliance would be violated? We never guessed the day would come when the IDF would abandon southern Lebanon without preparing us in advance. There were those who somehow succeeded in gathering some of their possessions and their family and taking them across the border. The rest were abandoned to their fate, meaning to Hezbollah. It seems to me a majority of Israelis can imagine the bloodbath that ensued.

Those who managed to cross the border were saved from Hezbollah's massacres and looting. But nothing could prepare the families for such rapid displacement from their villages and towns, their communities, their extended family, their language and their culture. Nineteen years later, the sense of trauma and shock have yet to subside. We were forced to accept a new reality: We would never again be able to see those relatives that remained behind. I have never seen most of my family since that day; and when my relatives died, one after another, I was unable to visit their graves.

As I have already said, I do not purport to represent the entire South Lebanon Army community. But the sense of betrayal continues to sting. I do not know how many people were killed, and how many families were decimated following Israel's decision to withdraw from Lebanon, but one thing is clear:  This was not a specific event that spun out of control but the intentional violation of the alliance.

But we do not need Barak's request for forgiveness, nor are we interested in one. Our friends and brothers, veterans of the IDF and defense establishment, who unlike Barak, did not abandon us, continue to accompany us in our struggles and our difficulties and have done so since that fateful day. Their friendship will not compensate for the crime, but it at least shows us that there are those in this country who are decent and moral and no less importantly, people of conscience.

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