Betrayed by Ceasefire: Israel Left Waiting as Last Hostage Remains in Gaza

Paul Riverbank, 12/5/2025The return of a Thai worker’s remains underscores both the deeply personal losses and the fraught, ongoing exchanges at the heart of the Israel-Hamas conflict—reminding us that closure is rare, and peace remains tragically distant for countless families on all sides.

Sudthisak was 42, a quiet man by the recollections of his loved ones, tending crops at Kibbutz Be'eri in southern Israel. He last spoke to his mother and siblings about ten days before tragedy struck, holding onto a dream that felt almost ordinary: saving a bit more before returning to his family in Thailand for good. "I wait for him every day," his mother shared, her words echoing the quiet desperation of distance and loss. Only two weeks ago was his death made official.

Three Thai workers, including Sudthisak, have now come home in the most final way imaginable—out of 31 initially taken hostage, 28 survived and—for them and their families—reunion brought relief. But for over 45 Thai families, the ongoing conflict has ended in heartbreak, their loved ones’ aspirations uprooted in foreign soil.

The Rinthalak family’s private grief plays out against the backdrop of international efforts to reclaim the missing. In all, the recent exchanges have brought home 20 Israeli hostages alive as well as the remains of 27 others. The system is transactional—Israel has returned hundreds of Palestinian bodies, most unnamed, in exchange for the release of Israelis, each negotiation tinged with both political calculation and personal anguish.

Yet these returns—hostages or remains—do not bring the war to a standstill. Violence continues, sometimes breaking the tense silence with shocking suddenness. The Kuwaiti Specialty Hospital in Rafah, Gaza, was overwhelmed on Thursday as the victims of a new airstrike were brought in: five dead, among them two children, and dozens more wounded. The Israeli military described the strike as targeting a Hamas militant after an earlier attack injured its soldiers; for the families in Gaza, it meant another night of fear and loss. A neighbor, Aisha Abu Jazar, described the carnage left behind: mattresses streaked with blood, the torn plastic and canvas of tents failing to protect the innocent.

The numbers tell their own harsh story: Gaza’s Health Ministry estimates more than 70,100 Palestinians have died since the fighting broke out last October. In Israel, about 1,200 lost their lives on that grim day when the war began and hostilities have claimed more since. Still, bodies are being discovered under the rubble, evidence of a conflict that is as relentless as it is unresolved.

Suspicion and rigid control cast long shadows in Gaza, where even the daily routines of aid workers are subject to monitoring. Documents retrieved by Israeli soldiers reveal how Hamas catalogues details down to the clothes worn by women aid staff and the organizations they work for. It is, by all accounts, an atmosphere punctuated by fear and watched from all angles.

For the families, though, the real war unfolds in their own quiet moments: a mother in Thailand left holding only memories; an Israeli police officer’s mother in suspense, hoping to bring her son, Ran Gvili, home at last after he fell defending others. Those left behind wait, cycling endlessly between hope and heartbreak, as governments strike deals over the most intimate of matters—human lives.

In this fraught landscape, peace remains uncertain, and each day brings new headlines that rarely capture the depth of pain stitched into the region’s fabric. The silent expectation hangs over families in every direction: When will it finally be their turn for closure?

News from Israel and Thailand took a somber turn as officials there confirmed the identity of remains returned in recent negotiations—Sudthisak Rinthalak, a Thai farm worker who lost his life during the October 7 attack that threw the region into war. His story, in many ways, mirrors the ache shared by so many families still awaiting word.Sudthisak was 42, a quiet man by the recollections of his loved ones, tending crops at Kibbutz Be'eri in southern Israel. He last spoke to his mother and siblings about ten days before tragedy struck, holding onto a dream that felt almost ordinary: saving a bit more before returning to his family in Thailand for good. "I wait for him every day," his mother shared, her words echoing the quiet desperation of distance and loss. Only two weeks ago was his death made official.Three Thai workers, including Sudthisak, have now come home in the most final way imaginable—out of 31 initially taken hostage, 28 survived and—for them and their families—reunion brought relief. But for over 45 Thai families, the ongoing conflict has ended in heartbreak, their loved ones’ aspirations uprooted in foreign soil.The Rinthalak family’s private grief plays out against the backdrop of international efforts to reclaim the missing. In all, the recent exchanges have brought home 20 Israeli hostages alive as well as the remains of 27 others. The system is transactional—Israel has returned hundreds of Palestinian bodies, most unnamed, in exchange for the release of Israelis, each negotiation tinged with both political calculation and personal anguish.Yet these returns—hostages or remains—do not bring the war to a standstill. Violence continues, sometimes breaking the tense silence with shocking suddenness. The Kuwaiti Specialty Hospital in Rafah, Gaza, was overwhelmed on Thursday as the victims of a new airstrike were brought in: five dead, among them two children, and dozens more wounded. The Israeli military described the strike as targeting a Hamas militant after an earlier attack injured its soldiers; for the families in Gaza, it meant another night of fear and loss. A neighbor, Aisha Abu Jazar, described the carnage left behind: mattresses streaked with blood, the torn plastic and canvas of tents failing to protect the innocent.The numbers tell their own harsh story: Gaza’s Health Ministry estimates more than 70,100 Palestinians have died since the fighting broke out last October. In Israel, about 1,200 lost their lives on that grim day when the war began and hostilities have claimed more since. Still, bodies are being discovered under the rubble, evidence of a conflict that is as relentless as it is unresolved.Suspicion and rigid control cast long shadows in Gaza, where even the daily routines of aid workers are subject to monitoring. Documents retrieved by Israeli soldiers reveal how Hamas catalogues details down to the clothes worn by women aid staff and the organizations they work for. It is, by all accounts, an atmosphere punctuated by fear and watched from all angles.For the families, though, the real war unfolds in their own quiet moments: a mother in Thailand left holding only memories; an Israeli police officer’s mother in suspense, hoping to bring her son, Ran Gvili, home at last after he fell defending others. Those left behind wait, cycling endlessly between hope and heartbreak, as governments strike deals over the most intimate of matters—human lives.In this fraught landscape, peace remains uncertain, and each day brings new headlines that rarely capture the depth of pain stitched into the region’s fabric. The silent expectation hangs over families in every direction: When will it finally be their turn for closure?