Her Name Caught My Eye: Eden Yerushalmi

I don’t remember exactly when I realized that there was a hostage who shared my last name, but it was an enormous shock.  Yerushalmi is not a common name in the US and it is mispronounced so often that I typically don’t even introduce myself with it, and just use my first name.

But when I travel to Israel, it rolls off everyone’s lips, smooth as honey.  Still it’s an unusual name, so back in the early days of the war, when we were all learning the personalities of the hostages and getting to know their stories, her name caught my eye: Eden Yerushalmi.   

Over time I learned about Eden and decided to “adopt” her as my cousin, bringing attention to her story through social media and my contacts.  I learned she had two sisters, just like me.  Her brown hair looked just like mine, her brown eyes, her smile… I didn’t know if we were actually related, but I took her on as a “cousin,” and dear member of my family.  I posted pictures of her with the phrase “Bring this Yerushalmi home!”  I wore a bracelet with her name daily, wrote poems about her, sent her emails on the 7th of every month, and even dedicated a book to her, all while praying for her to be rescued and to come home safely to her mother’s embrace.

However, in many ways, Eden, you and I are so different.  I grew up an ocean away in a suburban Ohio city.  While my family was very Zionist, my experiences of Israel always meant a trip there and a return trip back.  I am a wife and mother, very much in midlife.  But you, Eden, were just 24 years old, just starting your journey to who you were meant to be.  You, Eden, were a child of the land, born by the sea and a lover of yoga.  You, Eden, were kidnapped and murdered by an act of terrible violence.  

I wrote to her once, “Eden, whenever I see your name in print, all I think is—it could have been me.”  How true this is.  It could have been any one of us!  People living different lives, but always connected as Jews.  And as Jews, always fighting a war of legitimacy and always fighting to live as a free people.  This is what sharing a last name with a hostage taught me more than anything else.  We are connected forever, spanning miles and time.  These past 11 months, we have all been captive and we have all yearned to be free.  And now we all sit in ashes, wiping away tears, stifling sobs, mourning and gutted.

When I was in Israel in December and February and July, I saw pictures of Eden everywhere: on the beach, and near the Aroma, by the yoga studios, and the makolet, at the fountain and the bus stop.  Unknowing, she united something in each of us.  There are so many people around the globe who recognize Eden’s face, her smile, her beautiful soul. There are so many people who prayed in her name, so many hearts bound up with hers.  She will forever be young and full of promise.  She will always be a symbol to me of how it’s possible to love someone I have never met.

I will mourn Eden today and every day.  When I am in Israel in a few months, I will throw her bracelet into her beloved Mediterranean, I will leave a note in the Kotel in her sweet memory, and I will visit her grave at the Yarkon Cemetery.  In the coming days, I pray that God will comfort her parents and sisters and all who loved her.  She will never know the mark she left on me, but it is heart-deep.  May her memory become a daily blessing.  Rest in menucha nechona, my dear cousin.