To Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir:

Dear Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir,

As I write these words, my heart is shattered into a million pieces, my soul is consumed by an unbearable grief, and my mind is reeling with the unfathomable confirmed loss of  both Ariel and Kfir. The thought of their fate is a crushing weight that threatens to suffocate me, leaving me breathless and helpless. And yours, Shiri, remains a devestating mystery, with every passing moment amplifying the anguish of not knowing your whereabouts, condition, or your fate. The relentless torment of uncertainty is a constant reminder of the evil that has torn you from us.

Your family, once the embodiment of our collective hope and resilience in the face of terrorism, has been tragically torn from us. The confirmation of Ariel and Kfir’s passing, and the unknown surrounding your fate, Shiri, is a fatal reality. I had envisioned your family’s triumphant return, with hearts filled with the love and support of the Jewish and Zionist community, which had stood by you since the day of your kidnapping.

I had imagined Ariel and Kfir growing up, their young voices recounting the harrowing tale of being the youngest hostages of the October 7th Massacre, their spirits unbroken despite the unimaginable hardships. Though their lives were tragically cut short, I hold on to hope that you, Shiri, may still be with us.

I had pictured your reunion with Yarden, the agony of your separation finally alleviated, your love shining brighter than ever. The thought of your reunion is a bittersweet comfort, a fleeting respite from the crushing weight of uncertainty. I envision the moment when you would finally be reunited, when the anguish of separation would be washed away by the warmth of each other’s embrace. The tears of joy, the whispered promises, the tender touch that would heal the wounds of a love torn apart.

But it was not just the reunion that I had imagined; it was the lifetime of moments that would follow. The quiet evenings spent together, the laughter, the adventures, the mundane routines that would become extraordinary because you were sharing them together. I imagine you growing old together, hand in hand, cherishing every moment, and finding strength in the love that you share.

But alas, this is not a tale of imagination; this is the harsh, cruel reality of your family’s tragedy. The heartache of your separation was a palpable thing, a living, breathing entity that pulsed with every beat of my heart. I felt the ache of your absence, the longing that seems to stretch on forever, the desperation that threatens to consume me whole. And I know that it is nothing compared to what you must have felt, Shiri, torn from the arms of your loved ones, left to face the unknown with only your courage, resilience, and your motherly instincts to guide you. The burden of what may be is heavy, but also a reminder that these moments, through your family’s detriment, may still make it. 

The possibilities are hanging over us, leaving only the ache of what still could be. The thought of what you all endured, and what you, Shiri, may still be enduring, of the love that was torn from you, is a burden that I can hardly bear. We failed you. We failed to shield you from the senseless evil that tore you from our midst, and even worse, to bring you all back alive. Now, we are left to mourn loss and pray for Shiri’s safe return. We, as a people, lament the innocence that was brutally taken from you, and to rage against the lie that is ‘resistance.’ 

The daily nuisance tasks have become a privilege to do – washing the dishes, cleaning up a spill, taking the dogs outside…these are things you may never get to do again. Though your beloved children are no longer with us, I pray that you will one day be reunited with Yarden.  I think of all the moments you may have shared with your children, and all the moments that ‘could-be’ that were stolen from you. They will never blow you a kiss goodbye on the way to school, or tell you how they don’t like crust on their sandwiches, which pair of socks is their favorite, or tell you about the kid who drew on their paper at school. You will never sign their permission slips for field trips, or drive them to take their license picture. You’ll never get to give them guidance when they inevitably fall short on direction, or have an “I told you so…” conversation with them after they’ve done something you warned them not to. I think of so many times when my parents lectured me, or corrected my behavior growing up – and even now – and I think about how you were robbed of these moments with your children.

Your loss is a stark reminder of the evil that we face, an evil that proudly releases children in body bags, an evil that has no regard for human life. But even in the midst of such darkness, we find solace and hope in your return, and in the knowledge that your family’s names will not be forgotten, that their memories will continue to inspire us to stand strong against evil, and that we must love each other with every fragile, uncertain, fleeting moment we have on this earth while we have it. 

May Ariel and Kfir’s memories be a blessing, a reminder of the love, laughter, and promise that your family embodied. May your legacy continue to inspire us to fight for good, to stand up against evil, and to never forget the sacrifices that you made. Their memories will haunt us, drive us, and fuel our determination to ensure that their lives were not lost in vain. We are all you, Bibas family. We love you. We are so sorry.