My last blog post was on October 4, 2023 - just three days before my world shifted irrevocably as an Israeli, a woman, and a Jew.
On October 7th 2023, I awoke in Toronto to the devastating news of the Hamas massacre in Israel. Being seven hours behind, I learned of the tragedy only after it had already unfolded, as Israel endured what would come to be known as the Black Shabbat (Black Saturday).
Everywhere I turned, there were horrible videos and stories of people desperately searching for loved ones. And so began one of Israel’s darkest years.
From afar, I watched as my family moved in and out of bomb shelters, feeling powerless to provide any real help. That helplessness hasn’t left me since.
A year has passed, and I’m still struggling to comprehend the magnitude of this tragedy and find a way to make an impact.
It’s been a year of waiting:
Waiting for the war to end
Waiting for the remaining 101 hostages to return home
Waiting for Israel to start healing
The wait has been painfully long.
As I wait, I feel sadness, anger, and a sense of being torn.
I’m heartbroken for the hundreds of families who have lost loved ones and for those still waiting for news. I grieve for the parents, siblings, and partners who send their loved ones to fight, uncertain if they’ll return. I feel for the thousands forced to leave their homes, believing it would only be temporary, yet here they are, over a year later, with no end in sight.
I’m angry at a world that has allowed this to happen and at myself for clinging to hope for peace before October 7th, when it now feels so out of reach.
I’m torn between the desire to stand beside my family in Israel and the responsibility to keep my family here safe. Torn between the longing to support my homeland and the helplessness of watching from afar.
Yet above all, I am hopeful.
Hopeful because my country and the Jewish people have endured so much, yet they remain resilient, heads held high, with an unwavering sense of hope.
I am hopeful because my closest friends here in Toronto have shown me nothing but kindness and support, giving me the strength to feel less alone during this challenging time.
And I am hopeful because, as Dostoevsky wrote,
To live without hope is to cease to live.
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