For months, a quiet New Jersey suburb became the center of an agonizing vigil. A mother sat by her phone, jumping at every call, praying it would bring news of her missing son. Across the world, in Israel, Edan Alexander’s face was plastered on posters, his name chanted in protests, his fate unknown. Then, on a Sunday morning in May 2025, the call finally came. The nightmare was over.
The 20-year-old Israeli-American hostage held by Hamas since October 7, was coming home. His mother, Yael Alexander, collapsed into tears. After 218 days of uncertainty, fear, and relentless advocacy, her son was alive.
The Strength of Family: How Edan Alexander’s Parents Fought for His Freedom
Edan’s story is one of bravery, devotion, and the brutal realities of war. Born and raised in Tenafly, New Jersey, he grew up in a tight-knit Israeli-American household. His parents, Yael and Adi Alexander, had always instilled in him a deep connection to his heritage. When he turned 18, he made the decision to move to Israel and enlist in the Israel Defense Forces. It was a proud moment for his family, but one that would soon turn into their worst fear. On the morning of October 7, 2023, Hamas militants stormed the Gaza border, killing over 1,200 people and taking more than 240 hostages. Edan, stationed near the border, was among them.
The last message his mother received from him was chilling. He told her he had been hit by shrapnel but had found shelter. Then, silence. For weeks, there was no word on whether he was alive or dead. Yael and Adi refused to give up. They became fierce advocates, joining the Israeli Hostages and Missing Families Forum, meeting with politicians, and pleading with the world not to forget their son. They traveled to Washington, sat down with President Joe Biden, and later with former President Donald Trump, begging for help. Yael’s voice became a constant in the media, raw with emotion but unwavering in determination.

Meanwhile, fragments of hope trickled in. Other hostages, released in earlier deals, reported seeing Edan in captivity. They described him as calm, even comforting others, telling them to hold on because rescue was coming. His grandmother, Varda Ben Baruch, shared these stories, clinging to them like lifelines. But as months passed with no breakthrough, the family’s anguish deepened. Negotiations stalled. The world’s attention shifted. Yet the Alexanders refused to let Edan’s name fade.
Then, in May 2025, everything changed. A surprise deal, brokered in part by Trump and U.S. envoy Steve Witkoff, secured Edan’s freedom. The news came without warning. Yael and Adi were stunned, overwhelmed, scrambling to board a flight to Israel. Back in Tenafly, neighbors hung blue and white banners, the colors of the Israeli flag, in celebration. In Tel Aviv, crowds gathered outside Ichilov Hospital, where Edan would be taken for medical evaluation. The moment was surreal. After so much pain, the family was finally getting their son back.
But the story doesn’t end with Edan Alexander’s release. His homecoming is just the beginning of a long road to recovery. Hostages who have returned from Gaza often carry deep scars, both physical and psychological. The Alexanders know this. They’ve prepared for the challenges ahead, ready to surround Edan with love, patience, and professional support. And while they celebrate, they haven’t forgotten the others still in captivity. Yael has already vowed to keep fighting until every last hostage is free.
This is more than just one household’s ordeal. It’s a testament to the unbreakable bond between parents and their child, the power of relentless hope, and the cruel toll of war. For the Alexanders, the nightmare is finally over. But for so many others, the wait continues. And as long as it does, families like theirs will keep shouting, keep demanding, keep refusing to let the world look away. Because no one should have to endure what they did. No one should have to spend 218 days wondering if their child will ever come home.
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