Voices of October 7: Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of fallen soldier Hersch

I have had a lot of time during the past 332 days to think about my sweet boy, my Hersh. And one thing I keep thinking about is how, out of all the mothers in the world, G-d chose to give Hersh to me. What must I have done in a past life to deserve such a beautiful gift? It must have been glorious.

Hersh, for all of these months I have been in such torment worrying about you every millisecond of every day. It was such a specific type of misery that I had never experienced before. I tried hard to suppress the missing you part. Because that, I was convinced, would break me.

So I spent 330 days terrified, scared, worrying, and frightened. It closed my throat and made my soul throb with third-degree burns. Part of what is so deeply crushing and confusing for us is that a strange thing happened along this macabre path upon which our family found itself traveling for the past 332 days. Amidst the inexplicable agony, terror, anguish, desperation, and fear… We became absolutely CERTAIN that you were coming home to us ALIVE.

But it was not to be. I pray that your death will be a turning point in this horrible situation in which we are all entangled. I take such comfort knowing you were with Carmel, Ori, Eden, Almog, and Alex. From what I have been told, they each were delightful in different ways, and I think that is how the six of you managed to stay alive in unimaginable circumstances for so very long.

You each did every single thing right to survive 329 days in what I can only call Hell. Hersh, like most parents, Dada and I often would talk about who you would become, what you would be like when you 'grew up,’ what you would do, what you would look like, and what kind of parent you would be.

But now you will be forever our beautiful boy. You will stay energetic, kind, patient, curious, funny, irreverent, and pensive. Forever handsome. Forever young. Forever my sweet boy. When you wrote to us from the bomb shelter that you had just seen Aner get killed, you had lost your arm, and you thought you were dying. And you wrote to us, "I'm sorry," because you knew how crushing it would be for us to lose you. So you fought to stay alive. And now you are gone.

At this time I ask your forgiveness. If ever I was impatient or insensitive to you during your life, or neglectful in some way, I deeply and sincerely request your forgiveness. If there was something we could have done to save you and we didn't think of it, I beg your forgiveness. We tried so very hard. So deeply and desperately. I'm sorry.

Now, my Hersh, I ask for your help. As we transform our hope into grief and this new unknown brand of pain, I beg of you, please do what you can to have your light shine down on me, Dada, Leebie, and Orly. Help shower us with healing and resilience. I know it will take a long time, but please may G-d bless us that one day, one fine day, Dada, Leebie, Orly, and I will hear laughter, and we will turn around and see that it's us. And that we are ok.

You will always be with us as a force of love and vitality; you will become our superpower.

Ok, sweet boy, go now on your journey. I hope it's as good as the trips you dreamed about, because finally, my sweet boy, finally, finally, finally, FINALLY – you are FREE. I will love you, and I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life. But you are right here. I know you are right here; I just have to teach myself how to feel you in a new way.

And Hersh, I need you to do one last thing for us... Now I need you to help us stay strong. And I need you to help us to survive.