The Agonizing Wait: For Families of Gaza’s Hostages, A Ceasefire Brings No Peace 

For the families of the remaining hostages in Gaza, the ceasefire has delivered not peace, but a torturous new form of limbo, as exemplified by Ruby Chen, who waits in despair for his son Itay—a 19-year-old soldier taken on October 7—to be returned, even as he believes him to be dead.

The agreed-upon hostage releases have stalled, with Hamas blaming the immense logistical challenges of retrieving bodies from the rubble of a decimated Gaza, while Israeli families like the Chens accuse the group of exploiting a “best efforts” clause in the deal to obstruct the process.

This agonizing delay not only prevents families from finding closure and laying their loved ones to rest but also fuels a wider geopolitical stalemate, stalling critical aid and complicating plans for an international security force, leaving a community of grief trapped between fading hope and the unresolved brutality of the conflict.

The Agonizing Wait: For Families of Gaza’s Hostages, A Ceasefire Brings No Peace 

The world saw a ceasefire as an end to the fighting. For Ruby Chen, it was supposed to be the beginning of his son’s homecoming. For two weeks, since the ink dried on a deal brokered by international powers, he has existed in a state of suspended animation, his life measured not in days but in the agonizing silence of a phone that refuses to ring. 

“Each day we wait for that phone call,” Chen told the ABC, his voice a thin veil over a well of despair. “To tell us that indeed more hostages are coming [and] hopefully one of them is our son.” 

His son, Itay Chen, a 19-year-old dual Israeli-American citizen, was serving in a tank near the Gaza border on October 7, 2023, when Hamas launched its devastating attack. He was among the roughly 240 people taken hostage that day. While a recent truce led to the release of 105 captives, the deal stipulated 48 living hostages would be freed. Only 35 have emerged. Itay is not among them, and his family now inhabits a unique and harrowing circle of hell—the limbo of knowing their child is almost certainly dead, yet being unable to lay him to rest. 

This is the fractured reality behind the headlines. While diplomats debate the finer points of peacekeeping forces and aid trucks, a community of families is trapped in a grief that cannot find closure, their personal anguish magnified by the brutal calculus of war and the chilling semantics of loss. 

The Dignity of a Name: More Than a Body, More Than a Number 

In his first remarks, Ruby Chen made a poignant and powerful request, one that cuts to the heart of how we process tragedy. He insisted that his son not be referred to as a “body” or “remains.” The words, he believed, would diminish Itay’s dignity. 

This is not merely a father’s fastidiousness. It is a profound statement about memory, identity, and the value of a life. In the context of a conflict where individuals are so often reduced to statistics—a death toll, a hostage count—Chen’s plea is a demand to see his son as he was: a person, a soldier, a hostage whose story demands to be honored in full. By preserving the language of “hostage” and “fallen soldier,” he fights against the dehumanization that is both a cause and a consequence of war. For the families of the deceased still in Gaza, the struggle is not just for physical repatriation, but for the restoration of their loved ones’ complete humanity. 

This personal battle is being waged against a backdrop of immense logistical and political chaos, where the process of recovery itself has become a weapon and a bargaining chip. 

The Grim Archaeology of War: Digging for Answers in the Rubble 

The reason for the delay, according to Hamas, is the sheer scale of destruction in Gaza. The militant group claims that with Israeli forces in control of more than half the territory and most buildings reduced to rubble, locating and retrieving the hostages has become a perilous task of excavation. They have requested more heavy machinery and, controversially, access for their officials to Israeli-controlled areas to pinpoint burial sites. 

An Israeli official, speaking to The Times of Israel, gave a chilling description of the process: “He’s coming there, he’s saying dig here.” This image—of a Hamas official directing excavators in a landscape of ruin—epitomizes the macabre and dysfunctional nature of the current operations. 

Ruby Chen, like many in Israel, has little patience for Hamas’s explanations. “I do not put much stock into what Hamas says in general,” he stated bluntly. “Let’s remember the fact that Hamas was the one that abducted and kidnapped and put them in different places … it’s not a memory loss that they have.” 

His frustration is directed at what he sees as a fatal flaw in the ceasefire agreement: the use of the term “best efforts.” This non-binding language, he argues, has given Hamas a loophole, allowing the group to obstruct the process and leaving families like his to “live that hell of needing to wait.” 

Meanwhile, the delay is having cascading effects. Hamas spokesperson Khalil al-Hayya has accused Israel of using the hostage issue as an excuse to hold up aid deliveries, which were also part of the deal. He claims Gaza needs 6,000 trucks a day, not the agreed-upon 600, and that Israel is in violation of both the truce terms and last week’s non-binding ruling from the International Court of Justice, which ordered Israel to ensure unimpeded aid access. 

A Father’s Burden: Bearing Witness in a Community of Grief 

While waiting for his own chance to say goodbye, Ruby Chen has been attending the funerals of other dead hostages who have been returned. It is a crushing emotional burden, a ritual of mourning for other people’s children while his own son is still absent. 

“It takes a lot of energy, but they are family to me as well,” he said, highlighting the powerful bond forged between the families of the hostages. “We try to do what we can to support them… We feel that obligation to each and every one of those that are able to be reunited with their loved one.” 

In these acts of communal grief, we see the resilience of the human spirit even in the face of unimaginable sorrow. Chen’s presence at these services is a testament to a shared understanding that their fates are intertwined, that their pain is a collective burden. It is a powerful, quiet rebuke to the forces that tore their lives apart. 

The Geopolitical Stalemate: The Impossible Search for Peacekeepers 

The hostage crisis is the immediate, human barrier to the next phase of the ceasefire. The planned “International Stabilisation Force” (ISF), a key part of the U.S.-brokered plan to fill the void after Hamas, is now mired in the same disagreements that have plagued the region for decades. 

The goal of the ISF is to help maintain peace and support a new technocratic governing body in Gaza. However, deciding who gets to send troops has become a diplomatic minefield. Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar has already ruled out one potential contributor: Türkiye. 

“Unfortunately… Türkiye, led by [Recep Tayyip] Erdoğan, led a hostile approach against Israel,” Sa’ar stated. “So, it is not reasonable for us to let their armed forces enter to Gaza Strip, and we will not agree to that.” This echoes Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s earlier declaration that Israel would “determine which forces are unacceptable to us.” 

This stance highlights a core tension: for an international force to be effective, it must be seen as legitimate by all parties, including the Palestinians. Yet Israel’s security concerns grant it a de facto veto over the composition of any force. 

Further complicating matters is the stance of regional partners. Jordan’s King Abdullah II, whose country has a majority-Palestinian population, drew a critical distinction. He expressed willingness to help train Palestinian security forces but stated Jordan would not dispatch its own troops as part of a “peace enforcing” mission. 

“What is the mandate of security forces inside of Gaza?” he asked the BBC. “If we’re running around Gaza on patrol with weapons, that’s not a situation that any country would like to get involved in.” 

Hamas, for its part, has sent mixed signals. While a spokesperson has said the group does not wish to govern Gaza in the future and has spoken of the importance of UN forces, they have also conditioned any disarmament on the creation of a Palestinian state—a political non-starter for the current Israeli government. 

A Hope That Hurts 

As the world’s attention inevitably shifts to the next flashpoint, the Chens and countless other families remain in their painful vigil. The recent return of one more hostage’s body is a grim reminder that the process is still, haltingly, ongoing. For them, the ceasefire was not a resolution but a new and more agonizing form of conflict—a war of attrition against hope itself. 

Ruby Chen holds onto the belief that his son will be reunited with the family soon. It is a hope that must be nurtured to survive, yet one that, with each passing day, becomes more painful to hold. His story, and the stories of all those still waiting, are a stark reminder that long after the guns fall silent and the diplomats move on, the true cost of war is tallied not in territory gained or lost, but in the shattered lives and unanswered prayers of those left behind.