As Hanukkah dawns, an agreement that could bring my grandfather and 99 other hostages home from Hamas captivity after more than a year of suffering may finally be within reach.
Every Hanukkah, my grandfather Shlomo Montessor, a true handyman, was in his element as he made his menorah.
He always won the annual menorah-making competition at his home on Kibbutz Kessufim in southern Israel.
We used to call him the light of the family, with that big smile that spread warmth wherever he went.
And now this light has been taken from us.
My 86-year-old grandfather is currently the oldest hostage held in Gaza.
The same man who survived the horrors of the Farhud in Iraq as a child in 1941 is now living another nightmare.
At that time, they broke into his family home, beat his parents and committed unspeakable acts that haunt his dreams. Yet, somehow, he never let that darkness define him.
My grandparents kept a small gray and turquoise clay sign at the entrance to their kibbutz home. The sign, marked by a small hamsa hand charm on its left side, reads, “Life is happy here in this world.”
And it was true, life was really happy there.
When my friends were nervous about me visiting my grandparents in the Gaza Strip, I was excited instead. I felt safe there.
Until that Black Saturday on October 7th.
On that day, Hamas terrorists shot my grandfather's door and walls before entering.
They tied up my grandfather and took him away in his pajamas, while my grandmother Mazal (which means “luck” in Hebrew) managed to escape into the neighbour's safe room.
The clay sign at the entrance to their home was shattered by bullets, leaving only four haunting words: “Life is happy here.”
From then on, life was anything but.
Last Chanukah was our first without him. We gathered at my aunt's house to light candles with my grandmother.
Everything felt wrong and sad. My younger cousins lit candles, but I can't even remember if we sang traditional songs.
The first time I spoke publicly about my grandfather was at the Eighth Night Candle Lighting Ceremony organized by all the kibbutzim to honor those kidnapped and killed on October 7.
Now, we celebrate another Hanukkah without him.
Another Chanukah to light candles, but there is no real light – the candles are burning, but we are still in the dark.
The entire kibbutz knew of my grandfather's habit of reading the Psalms every morning.
When my grandmother and everyone else alive were evacuated to a hotel, they placed an empty chair in the lobby and placed the Book of Psalms on it, awaiting his return.
He only weighed 125 pounds when the terrorists took him, and it's been over a year now.
We have no information about his condition, or whether he is receiving his medications. If it's warm enough. Even if he were alive.
The world needs to know about my grandfather and all the other hostages still being held in Gaza. Time is running out, especially for old people like him.
He should be here with us, celebrating his 60th wedding anniversary with my grandmother, playing with his 12 grandchildren and making a new holiday menorah.
My grandfather is hard of hearing – he was kidnapped without his hearing aids. In the darkness of captivity, through starvation, abuse and lack of medical care, he cannot even properly hear what is happening around him.
He must be very scared and confused, alone in complete silence.
Until he returns, his chair will remain empty, his chair Tehillim The book waits unopened, and the light it brought into our lives fades a little more every day.
Over the past year, I've been traveling the world, meeting with heads of state, religious leaders, diplomats, and human rights organizations — telling everyone who will listen that the world must do whatever it takes to bring them back.
Now we are at a critical moment with a potential deal in the works that could bring Jedi and all the hostages home.
But we need your voice too. We need you to speak up, share their stories, and keep their names alive.
Please, don't let Grandpa forget. Don't let any of the hostages fade from memory.
Help us bring their light back home.
Noam Safir, a 21-year-old law student from Eilat, is the granddaughter of Shlomo Menzor, the oldest hostage held by Hamas in Gaza.
