Since October 7, time seems to have split into two parts: life before and life after. Roy Chen and Yotam Cohen, two young men in their 20s, are experiencing this time in profoundly different ways. One lost his brother and is fighting to honor his memory, while the other is still desperately working to bring his brother home alive from captivity. Despite their different realities, they’ve found each other through a shared pain that words cannot fully express.
Roy Chen, the older brother of Itay Chen, described a harrowing journey filled with emotional and physical challenges. “On March 11, 2024, we received the news that Itay was no longer alive,” he recounted. “Five months of uncertainty ended with one devastating piece of news.”
The topic of captives who were killed is not often discussed publicly, but for Roy, it is an ever-present reality. “Itay was my middle brother. There were three years between us. I’m the oldest, and he was always there. We grew up in the same house, went to the same school—just at different times. On October 7, we were both in the army. I was already an officer, and he had just started his service in the armored corps, which was all he ever wanted.”
Roy described their close bond: “I miss him, and I miss what was normal. I miss the holidays, the Saturdays when he’d come home, even the little things that annoyed me about him. I miss those too.”
Itay also left behind a girlfriend, with whom he had been in a relationship for over a year. Since October 7, she has enlisted in the army, and Roy’s family has embraced her as one of their own. “The way a sibling copes is very different from how a parent copes,” Roy explained. “Our parents are immersed in it constantly. As siblings, we have to juggle—supporting the family, taking care of ourselves, and continuing the fight to bring back the captives. Everything I do still revolves around this, but I also understand how important it is to take care of myself. It’s a daily struggle.”
Recently, Roy began working in special education as a guide for children. “There’s something healing about it,” he said. “It’s also a way to cope. I live between a shared apartment in Tel Aviv and my parents’ home in Netanya. One day I’m here, the next I’m in Jerusalem, and there are also all the flights. But one thing is clear—family is the most important thing.”
Nimrod is still captive, awaiting the miracle of release
For Yotam Cohen, every day since October 7 has been a day of struggle. His younger brother, Nimrod Cohen, an IDF soldier, remains in captivity. “I don’t see day 600 as any different from day 599,” Yotam said. “It’s also my birthday—my 24th. And this is not the gift I wanted. It’s a harder birthday than the last one.”
Last year, on his birthday, Yotam was on a delegation abroad and believed it would be the last time he celebrated without Nimrod. “But a year has passed, and I’m starting to forget. Forget who Nimrod is. He’s turned into a poster, a blurry face in a video, a name mentioned by returning captives. But Nimrod isn’t a story—he’s a person. He’s my brother.”
Yotam spoke about the void left by his brother in every aspect of his life. “We grew up together, played PlayStation together. His room is right next to mine. I walk past it every day—a room that’s empty. Even our shared games are still installed on the console. I’m waiting for him to come back and play them. The weekends, the laughter, even our military service—we went through it all together. And now, we’re no longer three siblings, just two.”
For Yotam, every milestone in life has become a symbol of absence. “I finished my military service, my sister Romi enlisted. And Nimrod… Nimrod isn’t part of it. He’s not in the picture. It’s tormenting.”
He shared how impossible it is to live a normal life. “I’m not thinking about a career, a relationship, or hobbies. Everything feels meaningless. There’s only one thing that matters—that he comes back. And this war has to end. It’s not helping anyone, especially not the captives. If you want to bring them back, you have to stop fighting.”
Yotam also spoke about his fear—that Nimrod won’t be part of the next release deal. “We, the loud family that’s fighting publicly, we’ll pay the price. He’ll be left until the end, just because he’s a soldier. Because they don’t want to bring everyone back.”
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The connection between Roy and Yotam was born out of difficult circumstances. Two brothers, one shared pain. “We’re the same age, and so are our brothers. We found ourselves in the same place,” they said. “It’s nice to meet good people, but we wish we didn’t have to meet at all. There’s a special bond between us because we understand each other without needing many words. Our generation of siblings shares a connection that’s part friendship, part emotional, and deeply rooted in shared pain and struggle.”
600 days have passed, and the numbers don’t ease the pain. They only emphasize the time that has gone by. But despite everything, there is still hope. To return. Not just for the brothers—but for themselves as well.