🔗 Share this article 24 Months Following October 7th: As Hostility Became Trend – The Reason Compassion Remains Our Best Hope It unfolded during that morning that seemed completely ordinary. I journeyed together with my loved ones to collect our new dog. The world appeared steady – until everything changed. Opening my phone, I discovered news concerning the frontier. I tried reaching my parent, anticipating her calm response saying she was safe. Silence. My parent couldn't be reached. Then, my sibling picked up – his speech immediately revealed the awful reality before he explained. The Developing Horror I've seen countless individuals through news coverage whose worlds had collapsed. Their expressions revealing they hadn't yet processed their tragedy. Then it became our turn. The deluge of horror were building, with the wreckage remained chaotic. My young one glanced toward me from his screen. I shifted to reach out in private. When we reached the city, I would witness the horrific murder of a woman from my past – almost 80 years old – broadcast live by the militants who seized her residence. I recall believing: "None of our loved ones would make it." At some point, I witnessed recordings showing fire erupting from our residence. Despite this, later on, I refused to accept the building was gone – until my family shared with me photographs and evidence. The Consequences When we reached the city, I phoned the dog breeder. "Hostilities has erupted," I explained. "My mother and father may not survive. Our kibbutz was captured by terrorists." The ride back involved searching for loved ones and at the same time guarding my young one from the horrific images that spread across platforms. The images from that day transcended any possible expectation. Our neighbor's young son seized by several attackers. Someone who taught me transported to the territory in a vehicle. People shared social media clips that seemed impossible. A senior community member similarly captured to Gaza. A young mother with her two small sons – boys I knew well – captured by armed terrorists, the terror apparent in her expression devastating. The Long Wait It felt endless for help to arrive our community. Then commenced the terrible uncertainty for updates. As time passed, a lone picture appeared depicting escapees. My mother and father were missing. During the following period, as community members assisted investigators locate the missing, we scoured online platforms for signs of those missing. We saw torture and mutilation. We didn't discover footage of my father – no evidence about his final moments. The Developing Reality Over time, the situation became clearer. My senior mother and father – together with numerous community members – were taken hostage from their home. My parent was in his eighties, my other parent was elderly. During the violence, a quarter of our neighbors were killed or captured. After more than two weeks, my mother left confinement. As she left, she turned and offered a handshake of the militant. "Shalom," she said. That image – a simple human connection during indescribable tragedy – was broadcast globally. Five hundred and two days later, my father's remains were recovered. He was murdered a short distance from our home. The Persistent Wound These tragedies and the recorded evidence remain with me. All subsequent developments – our determined activism to free prisoners, my parent's awful death, the continuing conflict, the devastation in Gaza – has compounded the initial trauma. Both my parents were lifelong peace activists. Mom continues, like most of my family. We recognize that animosity and retaliation don't offer even momentary relief from our suffering. I compose these words amid sorrow. With each day, sharing the experience becomes more difficult, instead of improving. The kids from my community remain hostages along with the pressure of subsequent events remains crushing. The Personal Struggle To myself, I describe dwelling on these events "navigating the pain". We typically telling our experience to campaign for the captives, while mourning remains a luxury we lack – after 24 months, our work endures. No part of this narrative is intended as justification for war. I have consistently opposed the fighting from day one. The people of Gaza endured tragedy unimaginably. I'm appalled by government decisions, but I also insist that the attackers are not peaceful protesters. Since I witnessed their actions on October 7th. They failed their own people – ensuring tragedy on both sides due to their violent beliefs. The Community Split Telling my truth with people supporting what happened feels like betraying my dead. My community here faces rising hostility, meanwhile our kibbutz has struggled with the authorities consistently and been betrayed again and again. Looking over, the destruction in Gaza is visible and painful. It appalls me. Meanwhile, the moral carte blanche that numerous people seem willing to provide to the attackers creates discouragement.