Our lives changed on October 7. This is no cliché. There are citizens who found themselves in a totally different world within minutes. There are those whose relatives were murdered, sometimes one or two, sometimes an entire family. There are many hostages still held captive, alone in Gaza. We barely know if they are alive. There are the families of the hostages who have not rested, day or night.  For 60 days already they are doing everything to bring their loved ones home.

There are the families whose sons and daughters are serving in IDF mandatory service, or called up to reserve duty; mothers who barely sleep, worried fathers, wives and children who have been left alone at home for two months.

And there are also families for whom nothing has changed. They observe everything that happens around them, as if watching a horror movie. Some of them are really engaging with the situation, helping, donating, encouraging. And believe me, there are also those who are completely disconnected. I know some of them, but that’s for another article (maybe).

For me personally, life has changed completely. My new routine includes very few hours of sleep, great need for action, and a lot of help for my granddaughter, whose father is on reserve duty.

Our editorial office in Jerusalem is almost empty, despite the large amount of work these days.

Our house is on constant “standby.” There is always movement. Our soldier sons sometimes get a short leave to come stay for the night, or a few hours. The soldier friends of my sons also pass through quite a bit. Food has to be cooked, dishes washed. And it’s not like we know when they’re coming. That’s why we make sure there’s always food, drink and everything needed at home. And also things they can take with them to friends at the army base.

We constantly receive new accounts of tragedy and heroism. Not a day goes by without hearing about more suffering, more pain and another unbelievable story. Sometimes the stories I hear are about people I know personally, or that my children know. And then the emotional struggle is doubly difficult.

For example, today Aviel and I went to Tel Aviv for the funeral of the colonel in charge of the Negev Brigade,  who was also a beloved commander of my son Moran. His name was Asaf Hamami. Asaf left behind a lovely wife named Sapir and three children. He left behind a mother, a father and a brother; and his grandmother Shoshana, who has lost three of her family members – her brother, her son and now Asaf her grandson. The heart is squeezed by pain.

On the way back home from Tel Aviv, my son Elad informed me that he was driving a member of his army squad to Barzilai Hospital in Ashkelon because his friend’s brother was wounded in Gaza. Elad realized that the back injury was complicated, and remembered that 16 years ago my son Tomer underwent back surgery by one of the most expert doctors in Israel, Dr. Kaplan. He asked Aviel for the doctor’s phone number, and the family called him. Dr. Kaplan immediately volunteered to help. As soon as he heard that it was a wounded soldier, he said, “Treating soldiers is sacred for me, and I will do whatever is necessary for them.” The family is already on their way to the doctor’s private home in Jerusalem with their son’s X-rays. And it is very possible that the injured son will be transferred today from Barzlai Hospital to Hadassah Ein Kerem in Jerusalem to be under the care of Dr. Kaplan.

On Sunday, just before Elad returned to the base, he said:

“Mom, do you remember the picture you sent me after Dekel Swissa was killed? With me and him sitting on the bench at school?“

“Yes,” I told him, “I remember.”

Then he said, “There is another friend in the photo named Roi Nahari. He also studied with me and with Dekel, and he was also killed on October 7^th. He was an officer in the paratroopers.”

My body tensed. How much death, how much sadness, and how much difficulty the rest of us now have to deal with? And I think about my children and their friends who are in their 20s. How much sadness they already carry with them!

It’s like this every day – another story and another pain and another disruption of routine. It took me a while to understand that this is not just a break in the routine.

This is the new routine.

This is life after October 7, 2023.