It started like any normal Saturday, with weekend activities and the weekly chores. It was a beautiful sunny day and the eve of the Jewish holiday Simchat Torah.
Late that afternoon I picked up a message in a What’sApp group, it was a bit vague, it sounded concerning, I wasn’t quite sure what was going on so I messaged a friend in Tel Aviv.
“just looking at the news, you ok?”
“it’s a nightmare”
By next morning things were becoming clearer although it still took some time to understand what had taken place, and we continued to be shocked as more and more information came to light.
I’m not sure how to explain the days that followed, it’s difficult to find the right words, we were frozen, disconnected, absolutely shattered and struggling to hold ourselves together.
The shock, sadness and disbelief was beyond anything we could’ve imagined.
My day to day was a fog, going through the motions of getting up, getting dressed, doing the things needed to keep our household going and to front up to work, but there was no mum at home.
At work I tried to get by but my mind and heart were elsewhere, silence surrounded me, I could barely speak, and there was no one to talk to.
Waking up each day, my first thought was that it was a bad dream, then reality set in.
I’d check the news wondering if I’d be able to get up and face the world.
There were times of deep fear for what was and what would be, for my family, for my child, for my friends, for Israel.
For days on end, I would walk into our home or get up at night with a vision of a masked man raising a gun – he was at the window, at the door, on the street. When I came home at night I imagined him waiting.
Then the anxiety, did my child have enough to eat, was there enough food in his lunchbox, if he’s kidnapped would he be hungry, would he be able to fend for himself, would he survive. If he was late from school I’d panic. If he went out with friends I’d worry.
I largely tried to steer away from the video footage, it wasn’t something I thought I could handle, but on one particular day I clicked on a short video clip. It showed two boys, early teens, just a few years younger than my own child, crouching in a small area trying to stay safe. Shortly after we saw they were murdered. I’ve replayed that scene over and over, it will haunt me forever.
Over the following weeks and months the news had its ups and downs. From outside the Jewish community I received a few messages and calls mainly in the immediate aftermath of the massacre, but they were few and far between. And by the end of October 2023 things went silent. It still confuses me as to why so many people said and still say nothing, were they afraid, embarrassed, did they not care, or didn’t they know. To those who did reach out who took the time to share their thoughts, who inquired about my family and friends, or who asked questions seeking to understand more, I am eternally grateful, I know exactly who they are, there were so few.
Over the months I have got to know the hostages and their stories, some are connected through friends, I see their faces, I think about them, they never leave my mind. It has been difficult and painful and I’m angry – how can the world look away? how can people not have compassion?
I remember coming back from a rally with a single sticker of a child – a 4 year old girl kidnapped in Gaza, ripped from her family and her home. I placed it near a busy intersection and within a few hours it was torn down. It still shatters me, that someone went out of their way to remove the face of a little girl taken hostage.
For the first time in my life I saw the real face of anti semitism. It’s not that I hadn’t known it or seen it before, but now it was real, it was tangible and it was ugly.
I never imagined having conversations here in Australia about whether we were safe, I never imagined Jewish friends reaching out and asking whether we should leave, but in the past year this has happened on several occasions, and I have asked myself over and over, where would we go?
I never imagined walking around the supermarket covering up the kosher meat in my trolley for fear that someone might see it, or trying to hide a challah, I never imagined feeling afraid to tell a medical specialist of my Ashkenazi Jewish background, I never thought I would attend a live performance and worry that a person wearing a kaffiyah might appear on stage or that I might find myself force fed a hate fueled agenda.
For all these reasons I found myself turning more and more inward, spending more time at home and within our community.
It’s now almost a year as I write this, the pain is still there, hostages are being murdered, there are still no words. At shabbat dinner we say a prayer for the IDF and the hostages and each week I pray it will be the last time.
As I write this, I think back to 51 weeks ago today and I see the Bibas children playing in the sunshine, the Siman Tov family sharing a meal, Hadar and Itay Berdichevsky feeding their twins, Avraham Munder at work, Galit Carbone out for a walk, Alon Ohel playing the piano, Na’ama Levy hanging out with friends, so many lives forever changed. I look at the hostage families and the parents who send their sons and daughters to defend their country, and I’m inspired. I’m inspired by the people on the streets of Israel who know how to live life, and those who do so much to tell the truth – particularly those who are not Jewish, who show interest and curiosity and who try to understand, in speaking out many of these people also put themselves at risk.
In this darkness there is still light, there is hope and opportunity, we’ve seen so many do extraordinary things. And with that springs creativity, song, prayer, music, humour and great warmth. That’s the Jewish way, our way.
So, it’s been a year of pain and sorrow, but also one of deep pride.
Postscript:
Since writing this Naama Levy was returned to Israel as part of the first phase of the hostage deals as was Yarden Bibas his wife Shiri and two young children Ariel and Kfir were brutally murdered in captivity, their bodies were returned and they were buried in southern Israel, Shiri’s parents were murdered on October 7, 2023.
All five members of the Siman Tov family (parents and their three children), Hadar and Itay Berdichevsky, and Galit Carbone were murdered on October 7, 2023. Avraham Munder was taken hostage and murdered in captivity. Alon Ohel is still captive in Gaza.
*This author wishes to publish anonymously.
