“After months and months of suffering, seeing their loved ones for the very first time— is that something that is meant for me?”
Ever since I heard about the murder of Shiri and her boys, I’ve wanted to record my feelings, but somehow couldn’t put pen to paper — or fingers to keyboard — but after your feature with the haunting words about the Bibas family and all that Klal Yisrael have been through, I finally did.
Dear Shiri,
I still remember in November 2023 during the first hostage deal, I waited and waited for you to be released. Perhaps because I’m around your age and also have little children, I felt like I couldn’t breathe or live properly without knowing you and your beautiful boys were back in safety’s arms. When you weren’t released in the first hostage deal, I told myself that I’d allow myself to sigh with relief once I heard you were out.
I couldn’t — still can’t — wrap my brain around it. Little redhead boys, one with a paci, and terrorists and tunnels just don’t go together. World, do you get that?
Shiri, the world stopped for me when I realized they hadn’t lied when they said you and your boys were no longer alive. I felt the loss so acutely. Somehow with all the terrible news that we’ve heard since October 7, I managed to sigh deeply, stash it into a “process later” pile, and continue on, albeit with heavier steps. But when I heard the terrible news about you, I felt weighed down by sorrow and helplessness. I had the sickening, sinking feeling of being pulled against my will into a place of smashed dreams.
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