On Friday night, as they sat around the holiday table and talked excitedly about the party they would attend in the early morning hours, their parents felt relieved that they were together, watching out for one another.
When the reports of rocket fire in the Gaza border area began, they took comfort in the knowledge that they were together, protecting each other.
In their worst nightmares, they never imagined that together they would meet their end. That they would hear that terrifying knock on the door twice. That they would have to bury them side by side.
Eight pairs of siblings were murdered at the Nova and Psyduck music festivals during the October 7 massacre. Eight pairs of siblings who just wanted to dance together.
Tragedy after tragedy
"We woke up at 6:30 AM to the sirens," recalls Sigal Mansouri, the mother of the late Norel and Roya, of that cursed Saturday morning. "It quickly hit us that if there are sirens here in Hod Hasharon, then it must be much worse in the south."
Norel, 25, and Roya, 22, went to the Nova party with Norel's partner Amit Cohen. "Around 6:50, they managed to reach their car and headed toward Route 232, but they quickly realized they were trapped," she recounts.
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Sigal Mansouri with pictures of her daughters Norel and Roya, both slain at the Nova music festival
(Photo: Dana Kopel)
"There was a massive barrage of rockets, and they stopped the car and took shelter in a fortified position. We talked to Norel, and she sounded very anxious, but we still didn't grasp the magnitude of the catastrophe. At 7:30, terrorists started shooting at the nearby field shelter, and at 7:39, we lost contact with them. At that point, we began a frantic journey to learn what was happening."
For long, nerve-wracking days, they did not know the fate of Norel, Roya and Amit. "On Monday, we were informed that Amit was murdered, and two days later, we received the news about Roya. Until then, we clung to every sliver of hope. We waited until Thursday to hear about Norel, and when we heard nothing, we buried Roya. The next evening, we received the news that Norel was also murdered, and she was buried on Sunday. Three funerals in less than a week, a shiva within a shiva."
"Norel and Roya were very close friends," she adds. "The meaning of Norel's name is 'the guardian angel,' and she truly was one. She was a significant anchor for the family and her friends. She was beautiful inside and out.
“Roya was like a fairy, a child of many talents. She painted, wrote and loved life, traveling and experiencing adventures around the world. I miss them with every breath I take, I feel like my heart has been torn out."
Seven months have passed since then, seven months of longing and relentless pain. "I have a 14-year-old son who still hasn't returned to school. We haven't returned to our work routines either. We are quite lost, mainly focusing on commemoration, but not living a normal life. I pray every day that all of this won't be in vain. That the hostages will return, that reality will change, and that we will be able to rise from this devastation."
A paradise turned into hell
Brothers Yuval, 33, and Noam, 30, Rabia were among those who traveled together to the Psyduck festival that day to celebrate the engagement of Yuval and his partner, Noy Zafrani. When the rockets started on the morning of Simchat Torah, the three of them drove to Noy's friend's house in Kibbutz Nir Oz.
"We live in Moshav Yesha, 4.5 kilometers from the border," recounts their father, Juju. "When the rockets started, we tried to contact them but couldn't. At 3:00 AM on Tuesday, the police called and said there was a positive identification. Until then, I tried to stay optimistic. In that sense, when they told me there was a positive identification, that they had been murdered, I felt a certain relief. That’s it, they are with me, they are whole and they weren’t tortured."
Yuval and Noam were not only brothers but also very good friends. "I miss them all the time, every minute," Juju says. "I always looked forward to the holidays because the whole family would come together, and there would be laughter and music. Now, the holidays mean nothing to me. Everything is dark, dead. This wasn't supposed to happen. I've lived on this border for nearly 67 years. It’s a paradise that turned into hell, and I keep asking myself—how did this happen?"
The knock no one wants to hear
Yeruchem Rivlin's four children worked at the Nova festival, but only two of them returned. "When the rockets started, they split up," Yeruchem recounts. "Gideon Harel, 18, whom everyone knew as Gigi, and Yochai, 26, ran in one direction, while Aviad, 23, and Yinon, 20, ran in another."
"The last footage we have of Aviad is of him tending to one of the wounded. Yinon saw the terrorists approaching and told everyone to flee. Yochai and Gigi were together near the containers. They realized the containers were a death trap and ran toward the car, but Gigi didn't make it. Yochai got into the car and covered himself with a blanket that was inside when Gigi called him and said he had been shot three times in the back. For hours, he tried to call for help, hearing continuous gunfire around him, people being executed, and women pleading to be left alone."
During these hours, Yeruchem, a religious man observing the Sabbath, was unaware of what was happening around the Gaza border. "That night, Yochai called me and told me that Gigi didn't make it. He wanted professionals to come and inform us, but he understood it would take time. Regarding Aviad, in the first few days, there were rumors that he had been kidnapped, until Wednesday morning when we heard the knock no one wants to hear, and they informed us that he had also been killed."
"Aviad was everyone's child; he made everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world to him," he describes. "He was a smart young man with the ability to empathize with everyone around him. Gigi was a guy who never got angry and never yelled. He loved to travel and trekked this land barefoot."