Father’s Day has always been straightforward for me. Three children, three reasons to celebrate, three sources of endless pride and occasional worry. Now, as I sit in the quiet of our home in Israel, the mathematics of fatherhood has become impossibly complex. I navigate between celebrating a miracle and still mourning an irreplaceable loss.
On October 7th, my world shattered into pieces that I am still trying to reassemble. In the space of a few hours, our family’s life in Kibbutz Nir Oz — a place founded by my children’s grandparents — became a story of survival, loss, and an ongoing nightmare. I am the father of three children: my son Dolev was murdered, my daughter Arbel was kidnapped, and my son Neta survived that horrific day.
My daughter Arbel was released after 482 days in Hamas captivity. She is our youngest at 28, our ray of sunshine, whose smile magnetizes everyone around her. She worked as a guide at the space technology center, spreading knowledge and joy. She’s the kind of person who makes everyone feel more alive.
Get Our Latest News for FREE
Subscribe to get daily/weekly email with the top stories (plus special offers!) from The Christian Post. Be the first to know.
The moment of Arbel’s release was both our greatest miracle and our deepest terror. The world watched as she was surrounded by angry crowds in Gaza, and we feared she might not survive her own liberation. She did survive, as she had survived everything else — a hero with immeasurable courage.
Arbel returned alone. Her boyfriend Ariel, who was kidnapped with her, remains in the tunnels along with his brother, David. Arbel and Ariel had been together for five years before their kidnapping. Ariel has become my fourth child.
The first thing she said was that she was completely alone in captivity. For 482 days, she endured isolation, malnutrition, and unimaginable cruelty. She told us that what we saw on her release day — being passed between armed terrorists — is only a tenth of their evil.
There was something we had prepared for, something that filled us with dread. We knew we would have to tell her about her brother Dolev. We brought Dolev’s widow to be with us in that moment. We discovered something that broke our hearts all over again: she already knew. She had learned of Dolev’s death while in captivity and had grieved him completely alone, in the darkness, without family or comfort.
Dolev, my firstborn at 35, was an incredible father to four children — his youngest born just nine days after Dolev was murdered. He was the kind of father who built climbing walls in his house for his kids. He was both a building engineer and a volunteer medic who had saved lives throughout our region. He had treated people wounded by rockets, responded to every call, and cared for victims of car accidents and workplace injuries. When he heard cries for help on October 7th, he couldn’t stay in his safe room with his family. He left to help the wounded and disappeared. For eight months, we believed he was a hostage alongside his sister, until we found his body in the kibbutz grounds. He was killed alongside two friends, Tamir and Aviv, fighting against dozens of attackers as they defended their kibbutz.
At 6:30 AM on October 7th, when the sirens began, I was texting with Dolev. At 6:50 AM, he wrote to me that everything was okay. Those were his last words to me. Contact with Arbel was lost around 9 AM. From that moment, I entered a suspended state of existence, waking each morning to the crushing weight of not knowing if my children were alive or dead, hungry or cold, suffering or finding moments of peace.
Now, alongside Arbel’s recovery — a journey that began 5 months ago and will continue until our last day on earth — we have finally been able to begin mourning Dolev together. I have his grave where I can visit and pay my respects. I can embrace my daughter who returned home alive. Meanwhile, there are 53 hostages still in Gaza whose families can do neither — fathers, children, grandfathers, and grandmothers still waiting in the darkness.
To President Trump, a father himself, I extend my deepest gratitude for using all your weight for the return of the hostages, along with his Middle East envoy Steve Witkoff — a father who understood our pain in the deepest way. Because of your efforts, our family has been reunited with Arbel.
Our struggle is far from over. We will continue to fight until they all return.
This Father’s Day, I am overwhelmed by gratitude for the miracle of Arbel’s return and devastated by the loss of Dolev. I am a father who has experienced both the impossible joy of a child returning from the dead and the unbearable pain of burying a son who died saving others. I celebrate my daughter’s survival while I mourn at my son’s grave, and I fight for the return of the young man who has become like another son to me.
We are here, we will not be silent, and we will not give up until every child, every father, every mother, every son and daughter returns home.
Yechi Yehoud is the father of released Israeli hostage Arbel Yehoud, and Dolev Yehoud, who died at the hands of Hamas.
