Friday. Day 100.

I have seen Rachel’s face every day for the past 100 days. She is poised and articulate, despite her fears, pleas, and sheer anguish. Her son Hersh was injured and kidnapped on October 7. He’s being held captive in Gaza, with his one remaining arm, in dire conditions.

I see Rachel’s face, begging us to not forget about Hersh and the other hostages. She reminds us daily, by wearing on her chest a number written on masking tape, how many days it’s been since the terrible day that changed the world.

I see Rachel’s face and can’t help but think of my own son. If my son endured what Rachel’s and others’ sons are going through, I know I would transform into a different person. I too would “quit” life as I know it and would spend 24/7 doing everything and anything to bring him home. No law, committee, money, or other roadblock would deter me. I would kill, and even fight to my own death, for his safe return.

And yet, I see Rachel’s face and I know she is doing everything she possibly can. She and the other hostages’ families who join in this daily struggle — to keep the faith and remain hopeful — are victims themselves. Their anguish is excruciating to watch and to hear.

The fact that Hersh and the others haven’t been returned from Gaza is a gut-wrenching message. A message I don’t dare to attempt to decipher. But it’s not good.

Yes, there have been many casualties of this war. Yes, many innocents have died or been injured. But the war crimes committed by Hamas, between October 7 and today, are unconscionable.

Politics, war, and negotiation tactics aside, the innocent civilians taken — the men, women, teens, and children taken 100 days ago — should’ve been released. Period. There is no court, neither judicial nor public opinion, that should permit or tolerate this unjust, unwarranted, unprovoked imprisonment.

I see Rachel’s face. It haunts my dreams. I hear her voice. It breaks my heart. I read her posts. They make me cry. I hope she knows that I, and so many other mothers, feel her pain. We stand with her in a collective suffering and we pray for a miracle.

#bringhershhome

#bringthemallhomenow

Rachel Goldberg-Polin

One thought on “Friday. Day 100.

  1. Cheri, 

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    div>This  is beyond heartbreaking! I spoke to burn your mom and dad today. And I sent Randi a text message today, 

    Sent from my iPhone

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