My father, Yossi Sharabi, should have been here when we marked Father’s Day. Instead, after being kidnapped by Hamas and murdered in captivity, he remains trapped in Gaza while I carry on without the person who was my everything.

Growing up in Kibbutz Be’eri, my father was always there during the rocket attacks that have been part of our reality since I was born. He was my protector in our safe room, his reassuring voice calming our fears whenever the sirens wailed. Now, with the escalating war between Israel and Iran, I find myself back in that same terrifying position — but this time, there’s only an emptiness where his strong presence used to be. The sound of sirens and the rush to shelter bring back all those memories of Oct. 7, 2023, when he stood between us and danger for the last time.