Sitting with grief

Northern Sangha friends Heather Monro, Deborah Hunter and Joe Holtaway reflect on solidarity sitting with the ‘Know Their Names’ event for Palestinian children held in Newcastle. With our gratitude to Know Their Names and Women in Black.

An international event has been taking place over recent months, the reading of the names of over 20,000* Palestinian children killed since October 7th 2023 by Israeli forces, giving each name a moment of public space.

*Unicef figures: 21,289 recorded, February 2026

As part of that event in the North of England, groups were invited to come and witness. Heather from Sacred Earth Sangha and Joe from Northern Lotus Sangha, answered that call to organise and sat together with other Sangha friends.

This particular event, in Newcastle, ran for 33 hours over 3 days each name read given around 5 seconds.

Alongside it was their vigil sit of half an hour, reading some words from Thich Nhat Hanh, a guided meditation based on a Plum Village Peace Meditation, and closed with some sharing and this quote.

“Our enemy is not the other person. Our enemy is the violence, ignorance and injustice.”

Thich Nhat Hanh

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Deborah

Beyond signing petitions, liking posts on social media, trying to make careful choices as a consumer, and occasionally attending marches, much of my life is shaped by the ordinary rhythms of being a single mother. Taking uncomfortable action hasn’t always felt possible, even though a quiet voice often asks Could I be doing more? 

So when Know Their Names (Newcastle) invited people to gather at Newcastle Civic Centre to remember the children who have died in Gaza since 2023, I felt I needed to go. I joined a small group of friends from the Northern Lotus (Newcastle) and Sacred Earth (Durham) Sanghas.

This was the third 12-hour reading held in memory of over 20,000 children —from newborns to teenagers.

It was a bitter morning. The wind cut through us, and the church bells rang out across the green. As I approached, I could hear the names being read—one after another, steady and unbroken. Along the front of the building were photographs of children, each with their name, age, and date of death. Small shoes and toys had been placed there too. As a mother, those details were almost too much to take in.

Volunteers joined in ten-minute slots, reading each name and age aloud. I sat for a while, listening, letting the sound of those names settle. I found myself thinking of my own children, of their voices, their laughter, the small, everyday moments that make up a life. It became impossible not to imagine the love that surrounded each of those children, and the unimaginable grief left behind.

I had been worried about getting the names right, but standing there, that fear softened. What mattered was to speak each name with as much care as I could, to offer, however briefly, a mother’s tenderness in the way I held them in my voice.

It wasn’t easy. I wept more than once. Even now, that day sits heavily in my heart. But I also feel a quiet sense of gratitude for having shown up, for having witnessed, and for standing alongside others who came together as a Sangha in remembrance. The support of Sangha gave me the confidence to participate, it made it possible for me to be present. 

Heather

Arriving at the Civic Centre plaza with its well-tended lawns on this bright but bitter morning the bell of the adjacent church rang out – a calling to prayer. Its slow repeating toll poignant – an eerie mournfulness framed by the blue sky and spring flowers. Thay’s bell gatha came to mind….”may all who hear it awaken from forgetfulness”…

There was no crowd gathered, no sense of an ‘event.’ Just a palpable and tender rawness amongst those present to witness. And an emptiness – the sounds of the city going about its Sunday morning activity distant and disconnected. Flags flapping in the chilly gusts, a row of children’s shoes, toys, soft and silent eyes staring out from their pictures.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Feel.

We sat. The bell sounded. Sirens in the city. Birdsong. Distant traffic rumbling. And the steady rhythm of names of countless ungrieved children spoken on the wind.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Feel.

There are no words to capture what our hearts know.

We sat for one hundredth of the time it took to simply read their names. 

I’ve never considered myself an activist but today I learnt afresh that my practice is my activism. May my practice keep my heart open – to be with the pain and to stay. To choose love over fear, despair, anger and blame. To keep turning towards.

Joe

Just over a year ago, my friend and I welcomed a child. F arrived with wide eyes and a peaceful face, this “manifestation of the universe”, to quote Brother Phap Huu who kindly wrote to me after the news. The last year has been one of beauty and profound belief in what love can do in our early days: the first smile, the first laugh, the first steps.

Sitting in our circle, following my 10 minutes reading the names, the injustice and grief flooded me…names still being over the speaker:

“Rola Yasr Mahmoud Nos 15 years old…Layan Samer Mohammad al-Mubasher 15 years old…”

Our teacher says that every child is “a wonder”.

In an article I recently read, I learned that if we were to hold a single day of remembrance for each Palestinian child killed (only) since October 2023, we would be holding funerals for over fifty-four years.

I have questions I am still sitting with about how my countries leadership has demanded such little accountability for this mass killing,  call it genocide, as I do, or call it otherwise. And seemingly continues to support it as it expands beyond Gaza. Dangerous cycles of violence and impunity. As Thay’s poem Call Me By My True Names has shown me, these questions are ours to hold together.

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If this article has touched grief in you and you can join regular Plum Village UK offerings to support processing that, such as: bi-weekly Engaged Practice for Peace, evening Together in Peace meditation (Monday to Saturday) or our morning meditations offered Monday to Friday.

Joe is currently working with another Sangha artist, Jean McEwan, to hold monthly creative grief/action spaces to process emotions and look together at meaningful responses to global violence. If you are interested in finding out more contact Joe here:  https://joeholtaway.com/contact/