Thinking of the Children

A heartbreaking anniversary

Last evening, by the time our youngest daughter sat down to finish up her math homework, it had been a long weekend and everyone was tired. We’ve had record-breaking heat in the Bay Area which added to the exhaustion. And it had been a busy few days for my daughter—a trip to the beach, a sleepover at a friend’s house, and a brownie-baking exercise with a larger group of friends. 

Apparently, if you can’t stand the heat, go into the kitchen? 

The topic of her math lessons was scalability. The culminating prompt was to draw a map of Nevada to scale on graph paper with a protractor. Even though I’ve lived next to the Silver State for many years, I never realized how singularly angular its boundaries are. 

My wife and I wanted to watch a mystery on TV and while we are willing, and sometimes enjoy, helping our kids with homework, we didn’t appreciate a last-minute Sunday night fire drill. This led to some animated discussions about time management, which I unwisely escalated (once again) to a bit of a rant on screen time vs. reading time. But in the end we got through it and my daughter, clearly spent, went to bed early, eager for hugs from her parents before she drifted off to sleep. 

Another day of family life and parenting. 

I thought about my daughters a lot this morning as I turned to the news and was confronted with the barrage of articles marking the one-year anniversary of the Hamas terror attacks on Israel. October 7 will echo through the ages as a day of unspeakable horror, loss, tragedy, and sadness. For what happened a year ago and all that has followed. 

I’ve written about my complicated feelings about the war in Gaza on Through the Fog before (you can read it here). My thoughts haven’t changed. They’ve only deepened in despair.

So today, to mark the anniversary, I want to focus on one particular aspect that captures the heartbreak I feel. I want to remember the children who have perished and otherwise been harmed in this abominable conflict. Because that was the first thing that came to my mind this morning. 

There is nothing that captures the depravity of war more than the death of children. They are by their very definition innocent casualties to the failures of adults. And there have been so many lost and otherwise traumatized over the past year. It is impossible to fully comprehend all the lives lost and permanently altered. But we must try. 

I think of those who were killed by Hamas terrorists and by Israeli bombs. May their memories be blessings. I think of those who saw their family members killed, who were taken hostage, who are starving and desperate. I think of all who have been displaced, spending their young years plagued with anxiety and dislocation. I think of those who will bear the emotional and physical scars for a lifetime and how this pain will shape the generations to come. 

I write all of this knowing that it is not only Israel and Gaza. It’s also Lebanon, and Sudan, and Ukraine, and all sorts of other places where children are suffering. I think of children lost in the recent hurricane, and to the opioid epidemic, to gun violence, and to horrific (many curable) diseases. 

There is no way to remove all the pain children will invariably feel, both consciously and subconsciously. Part of growing up is a realization that life can be cruel and unfair. But sadly, many children are forced to learn that lesson far too early. Others will never even get to experience adulthood. 

To all of this physical loss, I also think of another type of loss these children’s deaths mean to our broader world. In my daughters and their friends, I see such hope and promise. At times of despair, I find optimism in thinking about what a new generation can offer. And I think of how many wonderful contributions this world will never experience because all these children weren’t allowed to live.

I reflect back to my daughter and her homework, trying to make sense of the size of shapes, of how something can scale. There is no way to try to put the horror of war into any scale that makes sense. Each life lost is a tragedy. Each child subjected to pain is unbounded in its impact. There is no right answer no matter how hard we try to rationalize the causes and necessity of conflict. 

If lasting peace ever comes to the Middle East, it will be because a new generation will throw away the smallmindedness and hatreds of those who preceded them. If this precious world has any future at all, it will be because of the children.