🔗 Share this article Two Years Since the 7th of October: When Animosity Transformed Into Trend – The Reason Empathy Remains Our Best Hope It unfolded that morning appearing perfectly normal. I journeyed accompanied by my family to pick up our new dog. The world appeared secure – before reality shattered. Opening my phone, I saw news about the border region. I tried reaching my mother, hoping for her cheerful voice telling me she was safe. No answer. My parent was also silent. Afterward, my sibling picked up – his tone immediately revealed the devastating news even as he spoke. The Emerging Horror I've seen numerous faces in media reports whose lives were torn apart. Their eyes showing they hadn't yet processed what they'd lost. Suddenly it was us. The deluge of violence were rising, and the debris remained chaotic. My child watched me over his laptop. I relocated to reach out in private. Once we arrived our destination, I encountered the horrific murder of someone who cared for me – a senior citizen – shown in real-time by the militants who captured her house. I thought to myself: "None of our friends could live through this." Later, I saw footage depicting flames consuming our house. Even then, later on, I denied the home had burned – before my siblings sent me images and proof. The Consequences Upon arriving at our destination, I called the kennel owner. "A war has begun," I explained. "My parents may not survive. Our kibbutz has been taken over by terrorists." The ride back involved searching for friends and family while also protecting my son from the awful footage that circulated across platforms. The footage from that day transcended any possible expectation. A child from our community seized by multiple terrorists. My former educator transported to the territory on a golf cart. People shared digital recordings that seemed impossible. A senior community member likewise abducted across the border. A young mother accompanied by her children – boys I knew well – seized by attackers, the fear visible on her face stunning. The Long Wait It appeared interminable for help to arrive the area. Then commenced the terrible uncertainty for information. As time passed, a single image appeared depicting escapees. My family were missing. For days and weeks, as community members assisted investigators identify victims, we searched online platforms for evidence of our loved ones. We witnessed brutality and violence. We didn't discover visual evidence about Dad – no evidence regarding his experience. The Emerging Picture Eventually, the reality became clearer. My elderly parents – along with dozens more – were abducted from their home. My parent was in his eighties, my mother 85. In the chaos, 25 percent of our neighbors were murdered or abducted. After more than two weeks, my mum emerged from captivity. Before departing, she glanced behind and offered a handshake of her captor. "Peace," she spoke. That moment – a basic human interaction within indescribable tragedy – was broadcast everywhere. Over 500 days later, my parent's physical presence were recovered. He was murdered just two miles from where we lived. The Continuing Trauma These tragedies and the recorded evidence remain with me. Everything that followed – our urgent efforts to save hostages, my father's horrific end, the continuing conflict, the destruction across the border – has worsened the primary pain. My mother and father were lifelong peace activists. My mother still is, similar to other loved ones. We know that hostility and vengeance cannot bring any comfort from the pain. I compose these words through tears. With each day, sharing the experience grows harder, instead of improving. The kids from my community are still captive and the weight of the aftermath is overwhelming. The Internal Conflict Personally, I call remembering what happened "swimming in the trauma". We typically discussing events to campaign for hostage release, despite sorrow feels like privilege we cannot afford – after 24 months, our efforts endures. Not one word of this narrative serves as endorsement of violence. I've always been against the fighting from the beginning. The people of Gaza have suffered beyond imagination. I am horrified by leadership actions, but I also insist that the organization are not innocent activists. Having seen their atrocities on October 7th. They abandoned the community – creating tragedy on both sides because of their violent beliefs. The Community Split Telling my truth among individuals justifying the attackers' actions feels like failing the deceased. The people around me faces rising hostility, and our people back home has campaigned versus leadership for two years while experiencing betrayal again and again. Across the fields, the ruin across the frontier appears clearly and visceral. It appalls me. At the same time, the complete justification that numerous people appear to offer to militant groups makes me despair.