I withdraw inward, but with a broken heart I cannot truly disconnect. It's hard to find peace when I am never at peace inside. How does one even ask you for forgiveness?

A mother, no matter what, always thinks of her child.

And I? I ask myself constantly – is there anything more I can do for my Aloni? How can I be more for you?

In the end, Alon is not at home, and I feel guilty.

Guilty for what I didn't do.

Is he cold? Is he hot?

Has he been in a constant fast for almost two years?

Is anyone there giving him even a pre-fast meal amid the horrific routine of captivity?

And when, when will he hear the sound of the shofar announcing the end of the fast, the gates of heaven open before him – gates of hope, of freedom, of life?

And in all this, my thoughts also turn to my role as a citizen of this country.

What place do I have here?

How is it possible that in a state supposedly governed by the will of the people, I – an ordinary citizen – cry out my pain and am pushed aside?

The cabinet continues making decisions. Do they see Alon?

Do they see me?

Do they see the other hostages?

How did I, how did we, go from being the families of hostages to a political symbol? A symbol of division and incitement?

I am not political.

I am a mother.

I only want my son home.

And then, from within this brokenness, in the quiet of Yom Kippur, something inside me calms.

I realize I cannot fight everything.

I cannot keep carrying endless guilt.

Perhaps on this day, when everything stops, I have a chance to truly look inward.

This realiztion does not come easily. I am asked to forgive, when the pain is so great.

I am asked to find compassion, even though there is rage all around me.

On this day I choose to forgive for everything beyond my control but which exists around me.

To forgive the divisive words in our society.

To forgive myself for not being able to turn back time, for not being able to do everything to pull you out of hell.

For you still not being home.

Today I understand that Yom Kippur is not only a time for remorse; it is a time for correction.

A day that is an opportunity to let go, to focus, to clear away the noise, to send quiet messages of strength and hope.

I believe Alon hears. I feel he feels.

Whether it is understandable or not, I know this:

Forgiveness is not just correction. It is a path.

It is my path to healing.

It is the path to taking responsibility.

It is the path home.

All I can hope for is that everyone touched by October 7 – and I am sure it touched every one of us, citizens and leaders alike – will pause, look inward, and ask themselves: What can I do to correct? What can she do to help us reach a better place?

And when that happens – I am sure my Aloni will be returned to me.

The post 'Forgiveness is not just correction, it's a path': Idit Ohel, mother of hostage Alon Ohel, in a special Yom Kippur column appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.

The images from Saturday are reminiscent of the Holocaust; we have gone back 80 years. Alon's great-grandfather was in Auschwitz and emerged weighing 66 pounds. It is unfathomable that his great-grandson finds himself in a comparable situation.

I knew that in these release phases, people would not emerge as we had seen them before, and this infuriates me most. They have implemented a cruel reversal, releasing the healthier and more able-bodied first, while leaving the most severe cases for the end of the list. This is a shocking selection process that reminds me of the Holocaust, not the state of Israel.

If any decision-maker is willing to wait so long to bring living citizens back from captivity, for reasons unknown to me, they are mistaken. A Jew should not do this to another Jew. As a Jewish people, we have already forgotten – perhaps we need to be taken back 80 years.

If the prime minister in particular, and the government in general, are still willing to discuss other matters, such as settling the Gaza border region or turning Gaza into a riviera or any other idea – something here is not morally sound, even if the world thinks and acts this way.

We must bring them out now, today! Not tomorrow and not the day after. Is it not humanitarian? The men and young people must return today. They are in very difficult conditions, and that is humanitarian. No selection process and no phases – everyone at once, immediately. I expect the prime minister to ensure their return as quickly as possible.

My Alon, you must survive

Yesterday, after 492 days of uncertainty, we received our first sign of life – our Alon is alive. He is wounded and not receiving treatment, but we know he is strong and we pray every day. And despite his strength and survival, look at those who have returned – they can barely stand. They need support just to walk. It is inhuman. They are suffering and not receiving food. This is completely different from anything we have known, and the world needs to wake up immediately.

Today is Alon's birthday. I miss him so much – his smile, his optimism, his daily presence, his being in the house. He brings light, joy, and music that plays.

My Alon, if you can hear – you must survive. You are loved by many people who think of you and want you back. We are here for you, doing everything to bring you home. Stay strong.

The post My Alon, you must survive appeared first on www.israelhayom.com.