It was the moment the Israelis had longed for. On Sunday afternoon, 471 long days after their capture by Hamas in the darkest hour in Israel’s history, three young hostages made the arduous journey from captivity in Gaza to freedom in their homeland.
The release of the three women – Romi Gonen, Emily Damari and Doron Steinbrecher – marked the start of a multi-stage agreement that offers a chance to end the brutal war in Gaza and hope for the release of dozens more hostages after more than 15 months of torment them, their families and the nation.
But Israelis’ joy and relief at the release is coupled with fear about what the coming weeks will bring. Israeli officials believe at least half of the remaining 94 hostages are dead. And many doubt that the fragile ceasefire will last long enough for everyone to return.
“There’s this dichotomy between this state of mind where this could be the last day (of life) for her husband or her child – and the possibility that the same person could be sleeping in the next room next week,” says Udi Goren, whose family awaiting the return of the body of his cousin, Tal Haimi, who was killed on October 7 and then taken to Gaza.
“I don’t think words can describe the immense discrepancy between these two emotions.”
Over the past 15 months, the fate of the hostages has been seared into Israel’s national consciousness. Their faces from happier times were repeatedly plastered on buildings and billboards from Haifa to Eilat. Details of her life fill the daily news. Rallies calling on the government to ensure their release have become a weekly event.
But as the clock ticked towards the ceasefire this weekend and hopes that at least some would finally be released, there were also reminders of how precarious the situation remained. Rockets from Yemen triggered the eerie wail of air raid sirens across the country. In Tel Aviv, a Palestinian stabbed an Israeli before being shot by a passerby.
Meanwhile, Israeli warplanes pulverized the Gaza Strip into Sunday morning, bringing the death toll in the devastated enclave to over 140 since the deal was announced last week, according to Palestinian officials.
“There is a glimmer of hope, but it is not the light at the end of the tunnel,” Daria Giladi said as she and a friend attended a rally in support of the hostages in downtown Jerusalem on Saturday evening.
“You’re happy that people are coming home, you’re happy that the war is over, even if only for a short time. But there is still a long way to go. Only a third of the hostages are expected to return (in the first six-week phase of the deal). So it’s not enough.”
Even for the relatives of the 33 hostages to be released in the first phase of the deal – when children, women, the sick and the elderly will be released – uncertainty is high.
Sharone Lifschitz’s parents, Yocheved and Oded, lifelong supporters of coexistence with Palestinians, were both arrested on October 7. Yocheved was released 17 days later. But the family has no idea about Oded’s fate. When Yocheved returned, she told her family that he was dead. But hostages released a few weeks later as part of a ceasefire in November 2023 said they saw him alive.
And so the family has waited for the last 15 months, hoping against hope for Oded’s safe return, while grappling with the enormity of what it would mean if a frail octogenarian had been shot in the wrist during the Hamas attack, like this to have survived for a long time in Hamas captivity.
“We are all fighting for him with the belief that we want him back until we find out otherwise. If his destiny and strength endure and he finds a way to survive against all odds, we look forward to seeing him again,” says Lifschitz in an infectious voice.
“(But) he saw the destruction of everything he fought for. And then it had to be in the hands of the people who caused (that destruction). And he had to survive somehow when his health is not good and he is injured. It’s very hard to wish that on anyone, let alone a father you love so much.”
For families whose relatives are scheduled to be released only in the second and third phases of the deal – when the remaining living male hostages and then the bodies of the deceased are returned – the uncertainty is greater.
When the previous seven-day ceasefire and hostage-for-prisoner exchange took place in November 2023 and 110 of the original 250 seized hostages were released, many in Israel hoped that more such deals would occur and that the remaining hostages could be returned as well soon.
What followed, however, was 14 months of false premonitions, as Israel and Hamas repeatedly failed to reach an agreement and the number of living hostages steadily decreased. Claims by far-right ministers in Benjamin Netanyahu’s government that they have repeatedly thwarted an agreement have outraged relatives of the hostages. And it leaves those with relatives scheduled for release in the second or third phase fearing their time may never come.
Among them is Herut Nimrodi, whose then 18-year-old son Tamir was arrested in his pajamas, barefoot and without glasses at his military base near the Erez border crossing in the early hours of the Hamas attack.
Nimrodi knows the exact time – 6:49 a.m. – of her last message, when Tamir contacted her and said that missiles were landing at the base. The family learned it had been confiscated when one of their daughters saw a video on Instagram. But in the months since, they have had no clues about his condition. In November they celebrated his 20th birthday, not knowing “if he even turned 19.”“.
“I know my son’s name is not on the list (for publication in the first phase) because he is a soldier and we are terribly afraid,” Nimrodi said. “What I fear is not just that we won’t get to the next level. But also that (once the first group is released) the lobby (for further releases) will be much smaller because there will be fewer hostages, and they are only men.”
There is also a widespread understanding that even for those who return, the return will only be a first step. Lifschitz says her mother is coping with the return from prison “better than most of us.”
But for those who have spent more than 15 months in captivity, the process is likely to be far more difficult. Previously released hostages spoke of being held in cages or complete darkness, drugged and beaten, and in some cases suffering or witnessing sexual abuse.
Hagai Levine, a doctor who works with a forum supporting hostage families, said in a news conference last week that he expected “every aspect of (the hostages’) physical and mental health to be affected.” “Time is of the essence – recovery will be a long and painful process,” he said.
But despite their fears about the challenges ahead, families are desperately waiting for the process to begin. “Everyone in Israel – and of course families – needs a degree. We are a wounded society right now. We are traumatized. We haven’t even started with post-trauma,” says Nimrodi. “We have to heal. And the return of the hostages is a healing process for us as a community.”
Lifschitz agrees. “We know that so many hostages are not alive and we will have to go through several more funerals and shivas (periods of mourning),” she says. “But at least there will be some kind of closure. We will know. At least we will know.”
