3 min read
Two years.
For two long years, 251 hostages and their families have lived in an endless nightmare — days that blur into nights of fear, waiting for a knock, a call, any sign that their loved ones are alive. And for the families whose loved ones will soon be coming home, either in life or in death, these next few days will be among the most emotional of their lives.
As leader of the Hostages and Missing Families Forum UK, I have spent much of this time alongside families whose courage has been nothing short of extraordinary. They have carried their pain publicly — transforming unimaginable grief into relentless action. They have marched, met world leaders, spoken to parliaments, and looked into cameras pleading for the world not to forget.
Now, at last, there is a glimmer of light. The agreement signed this week — to bring home the last 48 remaining hostages — offers a fragile but vital hope that this nightmare might finally end. After two years of uncertainty, we are waiting, watching, and praying that every single one of them will soon be back on Israeli soil.
We are deeply grateful to all who helped make this possible, and to those whose courage and persistence made dialogue possible after so much despair. But hope is not the same as certainty. Every person involved must now honour their commitments and uphold the terms of this agreement. Too many deals have been discussed, delayed, or derailed in the past two years. This time, it must happen — fully, swiftly, and safely. It is now or never.
I was reminded of the power of faith when I sat with the parents of Guy Gilboa-Dalal, one of the hostages, last month. His mother told me that during one of the hardest moments of these years, when her strength was almost gone, she went into the garden of their home. There, they have a lemon tree that had not borne fruit for twelve years. She broke down and cried, praying to the universe — or to God — for a sign that her son would come home alive. “Please,” she said, “make lemons grow on this tree.”
A month later, the tree was bursting with lemons.
It gave her the faith to believe that her son would come home.
That story has stayed with me. It captures what so many hostage families have clung to — the smallest flicker of light in a sea of darkness. Hope that feels fragile yet somehow endures.
When I met Avinatan Or’s mother — a woman with the most beautiful soul — along with his brother Moshe and his sisters, they gave me a dog tag with Avinatan’s picture. I carry it with me every day. I can’t wait for the moment when it becomes only a keepsake — a symbol of a nightmare that has finally ended.
And when I hugged Alon Ohel’s mother and brother, and met his aunts Noga and Einat, I felt the same mix of strength and gentleness that runs through so many of these families. I remember holding the yellow piano concert for him at JW3 — and I hold on to the hope that one day soon, there will be a concert where he is playing, not one held in his honour.
The thought that some of the hostages might still be left behind is unbearable. These men, women, and children have suffered enough — enduring conditions that UK officials recently described as among the worst humanitarian circumstances anywhere in the world. They are not symbols or statistics; they are sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, friends and neighbours.
Among them are hostages with strong British ties — families here in the UK, who have lived every moment of this ordeal as if they themselves were in captivity, suspended between hope and despair, desperate for closure.
If the deal succeeds, Israel will begin to heal — slowly, painfully, but together. For the families receiving their loved ones for burial, there will be heartbreak beyond words. For those whose relatives return alive, there will be joy tempered by the scars of trauma. And for all of us, there will be an ache for what can never be restored — the lost time, the innocence, the peace that was stolen.
Yet even in the darkest moments, the hostage families have reminded the world of the power of love and unity. They have become symbols of resilience, compassion, and moral clarity — proof that even amid terror, humanity can prevail.
As we look ahead, my hope is that this agreement marks not only the return of the hostages, but also the beginning of the end of this war. That it opens a path toward healing — for Israelis, Palestinians, and everyone touched by this tragedy.
The world is watching, and the families are waiting. Every promise made must now be kept. The hostages have waited long enough.
It is time — finally — to bring them all home.
Nivi Feldman is the leader of the Hostages and Missing Families Forum UK, which supports families of Israeli hostages and advocates internationally for their return
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