David
written by David’s mother, Robi Damelin
written by David’s mother, Robi Damelin
David my beloved,
Not a day goes by without your haunting smile that touches my very being. They all told me the day you died that it is terrible now but you will learn to live with this pain next to you. In a way that is true, but still I guess the hole in my heart will never heal.
I miss going with you to concerts cooking and movies and even listening to endless philosophical questions on Heidegger etc. I miss you on the holidays when you invited friends who did not speak to their parents to endless meals.
You said you would look after me when I grew old. Your mother was always a fixer, but this pain I cannot fix.
I wonder what you would think of the course my life has taken since you were killed on that terrible day. I knew almost immediately that I wanted to do something to prevent other mothers, both Israeli and Palestinian from suffering the same fate.
Who would have imagined that I would stand up before thousands and thousands of people in a quest to stop the violence and to look for an end to this conflict which has touched so many homes in both societies. I wanted to commemorate your name with something to do with education, and so I chose to join the Parents Circle – Families Forum, a group of Israeli and Palestinian bereaved families who chose a path of reconciliation rather than revenge. I have told your story to people all over the world, some very famous and some simple and loving and I promise even though you are no longer here, you still manage to inspire and to make a difference.
I want to tell the world that there is a choice to be made after loss, that is you can die with your loved one or you can choose to try and prevent other families from suffering this pain which never goes away. Deciding to write you a letter is in a way a continuation of motherhood, but it also allows me to speak to other mothers and to support them in finding a way to channel their pain.
To quote you: lots of love,
Ma
David my beloved,
Not a day goes by without your haunting smile that touches my very being. They all told me the day you died that it is terrible now but you will learn to live with this pain next to you. In a way that is true, but still I guess the hole in my heart will never heal.
I miss going with you to concerts cooking and movies and even listening to endless philosophical questions on Heidegger etc. I miss you on the holidays when you invited friends who did not speak to their parents to endless meals.
You said you would look after me when I grew old. Your mother was always a fixer, but this pain I cannot fix.
I wonder what you would think of the course my life has taken since you were killed on that terrible day. I knew almost immediately that I wanted to do something to prevent other mothers, both Israeli and Palestinian from suffering the same fate.
Who would have imagined that I would stand up before thousands and thousands of people in a quest to stop the violence and to look for an end to this conflict which has touched so many homes in both societies. I wanted to commemorate your name with something to do with education, and so I chose to join the Parents Circle – Families Forum, a group of Israeli and Palestinian bereaved families who chose a path of reconciliation rather than revenge. I have told your story to people all over the world, some very famous and some simple and loving and I promise even though you are no longer here, you still manage to inspire and to make a difference.
I want to tell the world that there is a choice to be made after loss, that is you can die with your loved one or you can choose to try and prevent other families from suffering this pain which never goes away. Deciding to write you a letter is in a way a continuation of motherhood, but it also allows me to speak to other mothers and to support them in finding a way to channel their pain.
To quote you: lots of love,
Ma
I am Hala Al-Bukhari, living in Jerusalem.
My daughter, my sister and her large family, children and grandchildren live in Gaza. Despite the distance, before the war, I used to communicate with them daily, checking on their health via video call.
On the morning of October 7th, my son told me to watch TV to see what was happening in southern Israel. From that day, fear has overwhelmed my heart.
Then came the morning of October 18th, bringing the harsh news: My sister’s house was bombed, and she, her husband, her children, and grandchildren were in the house—33 innocent lives lost in this horrific massacre. Since then, my fear for my daughter has grown. I have pleaded with human rights organizations, seeking any means to get her out of the hell of war and the horror of the massacres. Eventually we succeeded to get my daughter out of Gaza.
With every word I write, I struggle to express the extent of my pain. Our hearts bleed with grief for those we have lost and continue to lose. Our sorrow is profound, and our souls yearn for the peace we all dream of.
Let us all live in peace and build a better future for our children. War brings only destruction and ruin to everyone involved, whether Palestinian or Israeli. It is always the innocent people who suffer the most.
I am Liat Atzili from Kibbutz Nir Oz.
My partner, Aviv and I built a life and a family in Nir Oz. We were an inseparable part of this little community, which fulfilled our aspirations and needs. Mine as an educator, and Aviv’s as a farmer and an artist.
On October 7th, our kibbutz was attacked, conquered, and destroyed by Hamas. A quarter of the residents were either killed or kidnapped, including me. The time I spent as a hostage in Gaza was of complete despair, unending fear for my friends and family, and long days. I was nervous that I wouldn’t survive.
After 54 days in captivity, I was returned home. The following day, my family and I were told that Aviv was killed on October 7th. Aviv had hundreds of friends, he traveled and created, and made the most of every opportunity; he truly loved life.In his final year, Aviv fulfilled many dreams, the greatest being to share his art publicly. While managing the kibbutz’s agricultural garage, he painted on tractor parts and scrap metal, blending his love for metals and the Negev fields into his creations. Our children looked up to him and I feel like I had the greatest privilege to share my life with him.
I always believed that war is not our destiny, and that any conflict, including ours, can be solved. This war has proven to me beyond a doubt that we cannot continue fighting, that we have no right to impose the continued suffering of war on future generations on either side. I am ready today, more than ever, to do everything in my power so that our children can live here in peace and security.
I am Mazen from Bethlehem. Many of my family members live in Beit Lahiya, Gaza. They lived in a beautiful house and went on about their lives, despite the siege.
It all stopped on October 10, 2024, when, my uncle, his three sons, and his son-in-law were outside near the house. Israeli aircraft targeted them with bombardment and gunfire. My aunt managed to bring their bodies into the house. With trembling hands, she was forced to gather what remained of them, unable for over a week to lay her husband and three sons to rest.
I cannot believe that so many of my family are dead, and that I cannot go there to help them and cry with them.
The depth of pain in Gaza is beyond description and cannot be fathomed by the human mind. How much longer will this hatred on both sides continue? How much longer will we endure this nightmare? All the Palestinian people desire is a dignified life free from occupation—a fundamental right, just like that of any other people in the world.
The suffering will not cease until we collectively seek pathways to peace and understanding. Revenge will not forge a shared future; we must strive to find common ground and solidarity. Let us unite for a brighter future for the generations to come, and let us raise our voices for peace, so that together we may end this cycle of violence and finally live in safety and harmony.