To Rachel Goldberg-Polin

I can't stop thinking about you.

Dear Rachel,

I can’t stop thinking about you. All throughout the day, and especially in the quiet hours of night, I think about you.

I think about how connected I have felt to you since learning about your son Hersh, and his brutal kidnapping on October 7th. How your face and voice have become symbols of our collective grief and resilience. How you never lost hope or faith, despite having every reason to do so.

I think about how your courage and sheer will were unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. How every time I listened to you speak, I thought, Where does she find the strength to keep going? How does she get out of bed every day and continue to fight?

I think about how many times I envisioned you and your husband hugging Hersh when he at last came home, and how we’d all weep with relief and joy that this nightmare was finally over, for all of us, but especially for you.

I think about how Hersh was murdered in the most barbaric way, perhaps days away from being rescued. As if you hadn’t already experienced enough heartbreak for a million lifetimes. Now you have to shoulder this excruciating pain, too.

I think about what I would do in your place. If Hersh were my son. Would I be strong like you? Would I get up again? I like to imagine I would, but I’m not sure I could. Hersh isn’t mine, and I never even knew him, yet thinking about his suffering keeps me awake at night. I can only imagine what keeps you awake at night.

I think about all the love that’s been poured out towards Hersh and your family and how it isn’t nearly enough. The whole world should be mourning alongside you. The whole world should be saying Hersh’s name, sharing his story, screaming for this to end and for the rest to come home. I’m sorry this isn’t the case, and I’m sorry that we all knew it wouldn’t be.

I can’t stop thinking about you, Rachel. Have you eaten? Have you slept? Have you taken a single breath since you heard the news that he was gone? How do you do it? How do we do it with you?

I mostly keep thinking about how you have become a light for the Jewish people. You know how we sit around during holidays and talk about our ancestors and mythical figures who fought for our freedom and performed miracles? You are now one of them. We’ll pass on the story of the warrior Rachel, who waded through the depths of hell for more than 300 days, whose voice screamed out from up above, so powerful that it reached underground to her son’s ears in his last moments. Rachel who carried us all, and then asked us to carry her, so we could carry each other.

I can’t stop thinking about you, Rachel, and I hope you feel the grip of our hands as we reach out to hold you up from afar.

We love you. Stay strong. Survive.

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