Dad, November 10th, 2023
It’s been more than a month that I’ve been searching for you.
For more than a month, it hurts to breathe.
For more than a month, you are not here to hug me or be my dad.
The moment when everything was lost, when your eyes could no longer see, was the moment when all doubt became a certainty. It has been more than a month, but it doesn’t feel like that. On one hand, it feels like only a few frantic, sleepless days, and yet it feels like decades since you’ve been with us.
My dear dad, I cannot write about you in the past tense.
I have no way to understand that you’re not here.
The time ahead will fill us with your presence and honorable legacy, including a smile, a loving pat on the shoulder, and taking care of your pigeons.
I wish for us to have that compass you had that guided your way.
It’s been over a month since you are gone, my dear dad, and yet, you are right here all the time.
I love you infinitely.
Elya
Dad, Januray 17th, 2024
103 days have passed since you disappeared. With you, so many others vanished, too.
I keep thinking that if you hadn’t disappeared, if you were here, you’d surely be going to the rally every Saturday, shouting, “Bring them home Now!” full of hope and belief that they must come home.
But Dad, we have no strength left!
We are only longing for a moment of hope for Emily, Doron, Gali, Ziv, Keith, and all the hostages to come home from the filthy hands of Hamas.
103 days of longing for hope after all the devastation we’ve experienced as a family, community, and region.
It troubles me to think that there’s not a single field in this land that is yours. It troubles me to believe that your voice is fading and that we continue to live. At the same time, October 7 still echoes in all of us, erasing each day since.
It troubles me to think you’re not coming back because you were murdered, and it troubles me even more to think they aren’t coming back even though they are still alive!
It troubles me that I’m not doing enough; it troubles me to get back to normal or even understand what every day is like.
One hundred and three days!
Where are they?
We have to bring them all home now! Yesterday!
Photo: Private Collection
Artwork: Shoshka, Ze’ev Engelmayer©