Clinging to hope, a hostage’s mother gains a new understanding of her missing son
There has been no sign of life from Tamir Nimrodi since October 7, but Herut Nimrodi is still finding out new things about his flourishing in the army before being kidnapped
Jessica Steinberg, The Times of Israel's culture and lifestyles editor, covers the Sabra scene from south to north and back to the center
When Tamir Nimrodi, an education corps soldier, was taken hostage by Hamas terrorists from his base near the Erez Crossing on October 7, he had just started feeling comfortable with his army service.
Drafted into the Israel Defense Forces corps that handles continuing education for soldiers, the teen had received an award for excellent service and was being considered for officer training, his mother, Herut Nimrodi, told The Times of Israel.
Nimrodi didn’t take any of her son’s successes for granted: The boy struggled throughout his years in school, both socially and intellectually, due to ADHD and sensory issues.
“For a kid who had such problems, he could have ended up a mess,” said Nimrodi. “He took all of his experiences and turned them around. He was having a better time; he was flourishing.”
In the 12 months since her son was taken captive, Nimrodi has heard from other soldiers that he crossed paths with during his six months of service, who have clued her in to the impact her son has had.
One soldier told of how Nimrodi brought his dinner to eat with her when he found out she was eating meals by herself in her room. Another related that Nimrodi snuck some shekels into her pocket when they had a break at a mall and he realized she had nothing to spend.
“All these little stories that I wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been taken hostage,” said Nimrodi. “Stories about how he helped them and understood them.”
As the date for Tamir’s 20th birthday approaches on November 15, Nimrodi said she isn’t so sure he even reached the age of 19.
Tamir had just gone to sleep in the early morning hours of October 7 when Hamas terrorists began their onslaught on southern Israel, including the base next to Gaza where he was serving in COGAT’s Coordination and Liaison Administration.
About 15 minutes after rocket sirens first began to blare at 6:29 a.m., Nimrodi texted his mother asking how she was and telling her there was a rocket attack.
By 7:12 a.m., he had been abducted, along with fellow soldiers Ron Sherman and Nik Beizer. All three were walked by the terrorists, in their shorts and t-shirts, to the gate of the base.
Beizer, Sherman and another hostage were killed due to an IDF strike on a Hamas commander in early November. Their bodies were later discovered and returned to Israel for burial.
Meanwhile, there have been no signs of life or otherwise from Tamir, beyond a video put out by Hamas on October 7 in which he could be seen without his glasses.
The IDF confirmed that he crossed into Gaza, walking on his own two feet. Beyond that, there is nothing but a swirl of rumors, said Nimrodi, particularly since Baizer and Sherman’s bodies were found.
In her darkest moments, Nimrodi recalls the look of terror in her son’s eyes in the Hamas video, left exposed without his glasses.
“He was caught in one of the things that scared him the most,” she said, referring to Tamir’s fear of terrorist bus bombings.
While Nimrodi appealed to the Red Cross and other aid organizations to bring her son some eyeglasses, she was told not to have any expectations, given that Hamas is a terror group.
“I can’t help him, I can’t be switched for him, I can’t save him, I just see him in trouble,” said Nimrodi, whose name, Herut, means freedom.
She continues fighting for him even as her energy has waned and with hope fading a diplomatic deal for Tamir and the other 100 hostages thought to be captive in Gaza.
Tamir is the eldest child of Nimrodi, who is divorced from the father of her three children. Her two daughters, Mika, 17, and Amit, 15, have responded differently to the events of the last year.
Amit hasn’t attended school during the last year, even as her mother and the school administration try to find ways to encourage her.
Mika, meanwhile, copes by locking away the trauma, trying to live her life as if the family isn’t in the midst of an ongoing nightmare.
“They’re in a kind of conflict between the two of them,” said Nimrodi of her two daughters.
Nimrodi tries to manage it all: her responsibilities as a single mother of three, working a few hours a day in her job as the director of an Osem food lab, parenting her daughters, and participating in the struggle for the hostages.
“I don’t wish this on anyone,” she said. “We’re fighting for 101 hostages and we know that at least 40 are already dead. So you don’t know who’s left alive, we have no idea. Today could be their last day.”
She isn’t one of the hostage parents participating in protests and rallies, although she does take part in some of the diplomatic missions organized by the Hostages Families Forum, making sure that the issue is kept in the news.
She isn’t angry, either, not yet.
“I know that being angry now won’t do anything and will use up the energy I don’t have,” she said. “I have a prime minister and I have expectations because he’s the prime minister,” she said. “It’s his job” to lead.
She reserves a part of herself just to being a mother to her daughters who need to giggle and laugh, and who need happiness.
“I don’t want them to grow up in a house of mourning and Tamir wouldn’t want it,” said Nimrodi, who adopted a puppy this last year. “The little moments of joy are so important for them so they still have a kind of childhood. I can’t take that from them.”
Nimrodi didn’t think marking the first anniversary of October 7 would be difficult but it was — even though she made sure to be surrounded by friends and family, so as not to fall and crumble into a deep sorrowful depression.
A former teacher sent a video of Tamir in his army uniform when he returned to his high school to pick up his matriculation certificate. Hearing his voice shocked Nimrodi, who was having trouble remembering what he sounded like.
And then on October 9, Tamir came to Nimrodi in a dream, the first time in the last year.
“I asked for a hug and we hugged and that’s when I woke up,” she said. “It made me cry, maybe he’s trying to send me a message, maybe he’s not coming back.”
Nimrodi has nonetheless soldiered on, sticking to the routine she has established, focusing on her daughters, her job and her home, the routine that gets them through another day.
The Times of Israel Community.