By: Nomi Kaltmann as seen in The Jewish Independent
9 June 2026
When We See You Again
by Rachel Goldberg-Polin
Rachel Goldberg-Polin admits that she is not usually interested in hearing others retell their dreams. She doubts most people remember them properly, and suspects details may get embellished in the retelling. Yet in her memoir When We See You Again she devotes an entire chapter to disturbing dreams she experienced before and after her son Hersh’s kidnapping and murder in Hamas captivity in Gaza.
Anticipating scepticism, she writes: “What I am relieved about is that with each of the following dreams I have the validation of having told someone upon awakening … so let’s make it clear for the record, I am not making these up.”
One dream, in particular, feels impossible to shake. In late September 2023, Rachel dreamt she was standing in her kitchen when Hersh suddenly ran across the living room and out onto the porch. He grabbed the railing, propelled himself upwards, and tipped forward. She watched him fall headfirst over the edge.
“But even as I ran, I knew it was too late. He had run too fast and with too much energy. And I knew he was going to die before I could get to him.” The next morning, when she recounted the dream to Hersh, he replied, “Why didn’t you save me?” and Rachel answered, “I tried, but I couldn’t get to you in time.”
It’s a haunting refrain in a raw and heartbreaking book written by Goldberg-Polin, about the agonising 328 days she spent trying to save her son from Hamas’s tunnels after he was kidnapped on October 7, 2023, from a roadside bomb shelter after attending the Nova desert rave party. His left forearm blown off, Hersh was kept starved, filthy and with five other hostages underground in a tunnel in Rafah for months, until he was executed by Hamas despite his mother’s agonised efforts to save him. He was returned for burial in Israel on day 330 of the war in Gaza.
Goldberg-Polin, still in the thick of grief knows that her book is not an easy read and warns readers before immersing themselves in her world of agony. “What I realise now, since my heart is shattered into tiny pieces, is that it is easier to share than when it was one mighty solid and strong heart. So please take a shard. Be careful, they are sharp,” she writes.
In an interview with The Jewish Independent about the memoir, Goldberg-Polin reflected on the way grief has reverberated far beyond Israel’s borders, even in Australia. “The Aussie Jewish community is powerfully connected to Israel in ways that run deep,” she said. “The sharing, carrying, and holding of the grief is a transcendent bond. I don’t think it matters that we are thousands of miles away from each other.”
Goldberg-Polin’s eloquence and grace in the face of devastating circumstances is inspiring as much as it is devastating.
She has tried to resist the increasingly toxic and polarised rhetoric surrounding Israel since October 7. “I refuse to debase, cheapen and degrade the holiness of the people who have been killed by falling into a trap of adversarial rhetoric,” she said. “The norm has become to scream; the method has become using hate, and the genre has become ugliness.”
The physical toll on her body after fighting such a gargantuan battle remains with Goldberg-Polin. “Often I don’t recognise myself,” she writes, listing physical changes to her body from the fight to save Hersh. “Even my teeth have shifted. So now I have a slight speech impediment that I did not have before. My hair has gotten thin and streaked with grey. I’m shorter. For real – even the nurse said it is weird I’ve shrunken so much at this [relatively] young age. My handwriting is different. But no one really writes anymore, so it’s okay. I can no longer read signs from far away. Or my book close-up. After October 7, 2023, I never got my period again. My body died.”
Her faith, too, has shifted shape in the aftermath of Hersh’s death. In her interview with The Jewish Independent, Goldberg-Polin described her spirituality as becoming “stronger and more physical” since October 7. “I am a believer. To me it is clear,” she said. “I live in the unknowing. I don’t try to pretend otherwise or to make sense of it. But I attempt to describe it, so it doesn’t choke me.”
Her faith in humans has been severely dented, not only from contact with the brutality of the terrorists, but also from the “important men” who promised to help but did not. She believes she was frequently lied to as she campaigned for her son’s release.
“I started to understand more about how the world works and who holds the strings to move the marionettes.”
It’s impossible to read Goldberg-Polin’s book and not feel the longing for a child that was taken too soon from his mother. One of the most poignant parts of the book is when she imagines meeting Hersh again in the future.
“Every night, I switch off the lights and I say, ‘Another day closer until I see you again’. I believe that. No. I am surer than believing. I know it,” she writes.
Goldberg-Polin is determined that Hersh be remembered not as a symbol, but as a real person. “Hersh was glorious in his normalness,” she told The Jewish Independent. “He was gentle and curious. He was easy.” She added that what stays with her most is his ability to listen deeply, “Especially to people with whom he disagreed. I wish I could be more like that. I’m trying. In his honour and memory … I am trying.”
When We See You Again is not an easy read, but it is beautiful. When you finish it, you will want to hug your loved ones a little tighter, knowing how fragile life can be.