Mother of Slain Gaza Hostage Releases Searing Memoir of Grief
Rachel Goldberg-Polin, whose son Hersh was kidnapped by Hamas militants and later killed in Gaza tunnels, has published a raw and unflinching memoir detailing her profound grief. The book, titled When We See You Again, was released this week and offers no uplifting narrative arc or political score-settling, only a visceral account of a mother's anguish.
The Hostage Crisis and a Family's Campaign
Hersh Goldberg-Polin was among the 251 people abducted during Hamas's October 7, 2023 attack on Israel. Before being dragged into Gaza, his hand was blown off by a grenade. He spent 328 days in captivity within the militant group's labyrinthine tunnel network before being shot dead, along with five other hostages, in August 2024. This occurred as Israeli forces were closing in, more than a year before a ceasefire deal in October led to the release of all remaining hostages.
The war sparked by the initial attack resulted in over 70,000 Palestinian deaths and widespread destruction across Gaza. Hersh became one of the most recognizable faces of the hostage crisis, with posters and graffiti bearing his name and a quote from Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl appearing across Israel: "Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how.'"
Rachel Goldberg-Polin led a high-profile international campaign for her son's release. She gave countless media interviews, met with then-President Joe Biden, addressed the Democratic National Convention, and joined mass protests in Israel criticizing the government for not securing a deal sooner.
A Memoir Without Resolution
In her newly released book, Goldberg-Polin deliberately avoids mythologizing her son. She shares mundane childhood details—how he picked his scabs and was bad at washing dishes—to paint a human portrait. The memoir briefly touches on his capture and widely reported captivity details, focusing instead on the family's desperate search for information after the attack, their long fight for his release, and the devastating news of his death.
"The book is mostly a very raw, peeled, oozing, throbbing pain," Goldberg-Polin said during an interview in Jerusalem. She describes "hundreds of sodden days dripping with anguish" and explains that writing began as a survival mechanism: "How do I survive the next 15 minutes?"
She remains uncertain whether the book constitutes "an exceptionally painful love story, or a love-filled pain story." What is clear is her commitment to truth-telling. "I just really wanted to tell the truth. It's very ugly," she stated.
The Search for Meaning in Suffering
Goldberg-Polin writes about the frustration of being asked how she is after such loss. "I think, 'Well, do you not see this dagger sticking out of my chest at my heart? How can you possibly be asking me that?'" she reflects. Yet she recognizes that most people cannot comprehend her pain, comparing it to describing the color blue to someone born blind.
The memoir also explores what she calls a "fellowship of grief." During her son's shiva—the traditional Jewish week of mourning—people approached to share their own stories of death and loss. "They're not trying to comfort me, they're saying: 'Let me stand next to you and we'll be in this together,'" she writes, describing this revelation of the world's "surplus of suffering" as both overwhelming and eye-opening.
Throughout the hostage campaign, one of Rachel's mantras was "Hope is mandatory," even when hope felt impossible. Now, people frequently ask her and her husband for a share of their "creased and crumpled hope." She offers no easy answers.
Carrying Forward a Son's Legacy
In a letter addressed to her deceased son near the book's conclusion, Goldberg-Polin makes a solemn promise. "I will carry your why," she writes. "I'll do it, I'll carry your why around the world."
She acknowledges that Hersh has become a symbol for many. "If people need Hersh to be something, he will be that. That is the essence of service, being what is needed," she writes in the memoir.
Rachel Goldberg-Polin grew up in Chicago and moved to Israel with her husband and three children when Hersh, their eldest, was six. She recalls stories from the "before time"—how young Hersh amazed people with his encyclopedic knowledge of U.S. presidents, and his passion for Jerusalem's local soccer team and its sister team in Bremen, Germany.
Her quest for meaning continues. "I'm still trying to figure out with clarity what is my why, but it's clear to me that my why is not done," she said recently, a photo of a smiling Hersh visible behind her. The memoir stands as a testament to unresolved grief and a mother's enduring love.
