Published on facebook on March 26, 2024
At 8 p.m. on a winter Friday night, their cozy apartment in Jerusalem was enveloped in a tranquil ambiance. The flickering Shabbat candles signaled their final moments before extinguishing, awaiting the next week. Hastily abandoned, the Shabbat table in the dining room bore witness to the evening’s abrupt departure. Beside the bottle of wine and remnants of challah, the Kiddush cup sat half-empty. Scarcely touched, the hummus and salads lingered, while soup bowls remained half full. The untouched main course pots stood at the table’s center. Notably, the chairs sat unpushed, hinting at their sudden departure.
The young couple lay unconscious on their bed, still dressed in their Shabbat attire. This departure from their usual routine had become a necessity since their son’s birth. They hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming exhaustion that came with parenthood. Despite receiving reassurances from others, they couldn’t shake off their fatigue. They heard various advice from friends, family, and ‘experienced’ parents: “Just wait, when he gains some weight, he’ll sleep through the night,” “It’s just a phase with the stomach gases, he’ll grow out of it and sleep better,” “Let him cry, he’ll eventually cry himself to sleep.” However, an end to their sleepless nights seemed elusive, and they found themselves crashing whenever they could.
He was a well-behaved kid, but since birth, he had brought them endless sleepless nights.
They didn’t sleep, gripped by fear that he might cease breathing, develop allergies to new foods, or accidentally tumble down the stairs from his bed. They didn’t sleep before his first days at daycare and first grade, as well as when he began engaging in the local youth movement and spent his first night at a friend’s house. Sleep evaded them during his high school dating ventures and his first road trip with friends to the north.
The night preceding his recruitment into the army for three years at Bakom, Bsis Klita UMiyun, was undoubtedly sleepless. Three years passed without reprieve until they retrieved him from the same place upon his discharge and transition to the reserves.
For nine months, they couldn’t sleep as he traveled east, backpacking with his army comrades, as he recounted, “seeing the world and forgetting all he had experienced during his service.” Sleep escaped them before his medical school and residency interviews, as well as when he left home to reside with his girlfriend in Tel Aviv.
And now, how could they sleep? After the events of October 7th. After terrorists infiltrated Israel’s border, perpetrating barbaric atrocities attacking communities homes and the Nova dance festival, raping and committing murder. After their son was abruptly taken from his family and employment, drafted into the reserves, and deployed to Gaza. Following his initial call, where his silence spoke volumes, only interrupted by the haunting words: “You can’t imagine what they did to us.” After his text, declaring: “We are going in, to bring them home and ensure our country’s security. I won’t have my phone. Don’t worry!! I love you!!.” After the midnight call, reassuring them: “There was an incident. I’m okay. I’m attending a friend’s funeral. Meet me there.” After the funeral, where they glimpsed a changed son in his eyes. After he expressed his resolve to return, “because he must, for himself, for us, for the hostages, for the victims, and for our country’s future.”
Countless sleepless nights, prompting them to question: Is this normal?
