Shock. A tightening in the chest. A heart that so desperately wanted to rejoice, to celebrate the return of Ohad, Eli, and Or, became paralyzed for a few moments in a wave of collective terror. A real shudder. "At least they're on their feet," everyone muttered, clinging to small comforts, to a measure of relief.
There they are. Look at them. Look at how they return. After 491 days in captivity at the hands of these animals, emaciated, exhausted, broken. It's chilling to think this way, reminiscent of images we wanted to forget from 80 years ago. Shedding a harsh, unfiltered light on the extreme inhumane conditions in which they were held. Supported, walking slowly, forced to take part in the humiliating and horrific spectacle orchestrated by Hamas.
Every Israeli heart asked in those moments: What did they endure? Did they go entire days without food? Did they not see daylight for all those long months? Did they lose hope? What kept them going? What fragile thread of faith did they cling to in order to survive? 491 days in the tunnels. 491 days cut off from the world, from their families, from even the faintest comfort. True heroes.
I accompanied Ela Ben Ami, Ohad's daughter, in the first hours after her parents, Raz and Ohad, were kidnapped on that black Saturday. And in the weeks that followed. She was inconsolable. She cried out desperately for help. Her father was the first hostage whose photo was published from Gaza, wearing boxers, a short black T-shirt, held tightly.
And now, Ela, her sisters, and Raz, their mother, who herself returned from captivity, are welcoming him home. But what version of Ohad is coming back to them? What is his mental state? How gaunt and frail he looks, the images are overwhelming, impossible to shake. The mind cannot rest.
Ohad, Eli, and Or are home now. They have already received the deep, warm embrace of their families. Just imagine little Almog, running to his father, Or, melting into his arms. The heart shatters.
To think of Ela, who fought with all her might, finally able to smell the scent of her father, Ohad.
And we must, must, look again and again at those images of them stepping out of the murderers' vehicle. We must see them, and we must bring them all back home. Now. As fast as possible. Because as time passes, the images will only become more unbearable. God forbid, they could become the images of bodies returned to us, in utter heartbreak.
Now. All of them.
