I woke up much earlier today, October 7, 2024. One year ago, my first sense that something was happening was when I awoke to sirens warning of a rocket attack in Jerusalem, at 8:10 a.m.
One year later, today, I woke suddenly at 5:20, when I heard our dog, Suki, barking in the living room, probably at someone passing by.
It was ten minutes earlier than I needed to get up, having set my alarm in order to drive over to Azza Road, where hostage families were gathering near Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s residence to sound a siren at 6:29 a.m., the hour that the Hamas terrorist attack began last year.
We stood there, hundreds of us, surrounding these families, around a dozen of them, their faces so familiar to us now after months — 12 months — of hearing their stories and their cries. Their faces, and the faces of their loved ones, of Idan Alexander and Ofer Calderon and Keith Siegel, Naama Levy and Liri Albag, Matan Angrest and Ofer Wenkert, so many of them, 101 in total, still, in Gaza.
I was there in my professional capacity, Jessica the reporter who has become so familiar with these families and their faces after covering the hostages over the course of the last year, but of course I was there as regular Jessica as well, Jessica who lives in Jerusalem with her husband and two kids, two teenagers who were getting up right about then, and donning white t-shirts for the ceremonies in their school, Jessica whose husband Daniel has a hard time tearing himself away from the news, Jessica standing next to her sister Beth Steinberg and brother-in-law Ira, all of us in a state of disbelief that it’s one year later and as many bereaved families say, it still feels like October 7, 2023.
There was such silence in the street as we waited for the siren to sound, only a pair of birds in the sky, squawking above us. I caught a glimpse of my friend, photojournalist Debbie Hill, and gave her a tight hug over the fence that separated most of the photographers and TV reporters from the hostages and their supporters.
I saw a few other friends from afar and we nodded at each other, along with my across-the-hallway neighbor, who had left the house when I did but she jogged over, making it part of her morning exercise.
I was standing close to some of the hostage families, and as others spoke, my eyes met theirs, and I tried to meet their glance with warmth and empathy, letting them know that I’m with them, that I think about them and their loved ones, that I will do what I can to get them through this.
For we are all in this relentless war and hostage situation, we are all marking one year since the horrific events of that day.
And yet, as Daniel points out, there are ceremonies and gatherings being held for this thing, this war, this unending situation, that is far from over. There was a rocket attack launched by Hamas at Holon, next to Tel Aviv, this morning, that hurt two people and a Bedouin terrorist killed a young soldier in Beersheba yesterday. Soldiers are in Lebanon, with more gathered on the border and an unending volley of rockets back and forth, sending residents in the north and center into their safe rooms. Two terrorists killed eight people in Jaffa last week, just minutes before Iran launched 201 missiles at Israel, sending all of us into shelters.
It all feels unwieldy and uncertain and at times, scary. I do know one thing, though. I am stronger and more able when I’m in that crowd of people, when I’m putting myself with others, sharing what’s happening and thinking about what’s next and what can be done.
We will forever be mourning those lost on October 7, but I hope that next October 7, we’ll have found our way out of this thing.
Thanks Jess. Sending you a virtual hug....
Such a sad day...