Orly Doron
Kfar Aza
“After October 7th, we knew we had no choice but to move forward, even if our hearts remained behind.
We relocated to Kfar Saba – not by choice, but out of necessity. There, we found a warm home, furnished with what little we managed to bring from Kfar Aza. There was space for the children, but not for all of them together – the house was too small to truly accommodate us, at least not in the way we were used to.
It was a default decision, and we understood it was only temporary. There was no room for us in kibbutz Shefayim, ((the kibbutz most of Kfar Aza’s residents were evacuated to), so we gave up our spot for young parents who needed the local educational facilities for their children.
We chose to carve out a different space for ourselves. In hindsight, maybe it was for the best – a bit of physical distance, but despite the distance, I still wanted to be close to my community. From this very place, I took on a meaningful role – overseeing the support for bereaved families from Kfar Aza. It wasn’t an easy decision for me. I hesitated, over and over again. I opened my laptop, closed it, asked myself if I was even capable of carrying such a responsibility. And then, one evening, it hit me – if there was anything, even the smallest thing, that I could do to help, I had to try. I wanted to look these grieving families in the eyes, to be there for them, to ease – if only by a fraction – their immense pain.
When I stepped into the role, I assumed there would be other candidates. Only then did I realize how incredibly difficult it was to stand at the forefront of such loss – and that I was the only one who applied. It’s not an easy burden to bear, but it was not one I could allow myself to walk away from.
The greatest challenge was reconnecting – bridging the families back to the community and the community back to them.
Some felt disconnected, choosing not to return in the future to Kfar Aza. Some find a way to rebuild; others struggle to rise from the depths of grief. Everyone copes differently.
I respect every choice. There is no single “right” way. The future, and the possibility of returning to Kfar Aza – if and when it happens – remains an emotional trigger for many, and I understand how heavy that weight is.
After eight months in Kfar Saba, we realized it wasn’t the place where we could truly heal.
It became clear that our hearts belonged in the south – in the village, in the quiet, in the open spaces we love. We searched and found a home in Moshav Nir Moshe, one that fits our family’s size and needs.
After a long period of wandering, the realization that we finally had a place to call home was deeply moving. The children say, ‘It’s not Kfar Aza’ – and they’re right. But slowly, we are shaping it into a place we can truly call our own.
And yet, something is still missing.
We are not whole, as long as there are hostages in Gaza.
Each passing day is an emotional storm. Most of the hostages from Kfar Aza have returned, but the twins, Gil and Ziv Berman, are still there – along with so many others from across the Gaza enclave. We wait, we hope, we pray.
The true healing of Israeli society will only begin when all the hostages will come home.
For now, what keeps us going is the mutual responsibility – the unwavering support that reminds us we are not alone. Seeing the masses take to the streets, demanding the return of the hostages, gives us hope. It warms our heart. It reminds us that even in the hardest moments – we take care of one another.