Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
About six weeks have passed since Yarden Bibas was released from Hamas captivity after nearly 500 days in the dark tunnels. Embraced by his sister, parents and relatives, he is trying to process the unbearable loss of his wife, Shiri, and his sons, Ariel and Kfir, who were murdered in captivity.
Without the family he built, the home he lived in at Nir Oz or the community and kibbutz he loved, Yarden is now drawing upon immense strength and has decided to choose life as he learns to start anew.
Yarden's challenges are numerous and complex, and his family is trying to ease at least one of them. Alongside the financial support provided by the state, his family has launched a crowdfunding campaign, with the help of the Reach Hands charity, to support him and memorialize his family.
In an interview with Ynet and its sister publication Yedioth Ahronoth, his sister, Ofri Bibas-Levy, shares thoughts on choosing life, Yarden's daily journey of recovery, the decision to launch the campaign and hopes for the future: "To do good for others."
"When I saw Yarden in the video released by Hamas, where they informed him that Shiri and the boys had been killed, I thought to myself, 'That's it. I've lost my brother.' I couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would survive that news, especially while still in captivity, completely alone," Ofri shares.
"We were terrified for him, afraid he might harm himself. But we were astonished by the strength he emerged with. We feared he would come out broken, shattered, but instead, he came out with strength he didn’t have before. It amazes us every day and gives us the strength to fight for him, for his life and alongside him."
According to her, "Even back then, in captivity, he chose life. Despite the immense pain, loss and longing, Yarden decided he wanted to live. The goal of the campaign is to help him achieve that. The state provides financial support, primarily through grants, but as I understand, most of these are one-time payments or valid for only a year. We realize that going forward, he will likely need more. I don’t know what his therapeutic framework will be. Right now, he’s still connected to Sheba Medical Center, but he might need additional private treatments later. I don’t know where he’ll live or what the support system there will look like.
"We want to ensure that Yarden can choose and follow the right path for him, without being forced into decisions due to financial constraints. Yarden isn’t asking for anything for himself—we’re asking on his behalf. He went through hell for 16 months and is now grappling with unbearable loss, with questions like, 'What am I doing? Where do I go from here?' He hasn’t even started processing the trauma of captivity yet. That will come at some point, and we can’t predict how difficult it will be. It’s a long road, with ups and downs."
Ofri explains that the second goal of the campaign, which officially launched Saturday night, is to memorialize Shiri and the boys. "It’s clear to us that the memorial will involve doing something good for others, especially for children, perhaps in the field of education," she says. "This is true both for Ariel and Kfir, and for Shiri, whose essence was education. As a person and as a mother, that was her nature."
Since October 7, the Bibas family has had few moments of rest. Even now, they juggle between an intense daily routine and the desire to allow Yarden to move slowly and safely on his journey. "Yarden is trying to think practically—where he’ll be closer to friends and family, where there are better job opportunities. Yes, he’s talking about work. He doesn’t intend to stay at home. Yarden is looking ahead. Nothing is set yet, and it’s important for us that this process happens at his own pace," Ofri says.
"The past 16 months have been a nightmare, and while the four members of our family have returned, we’re still in a race. We haven’t had a moment to let things sink in, to stop and process—Yarden's return, Shiri and the kids' loss. I tell him, 'Take your time,' but every day feels like a week. In the meantime, we’re protecting Yarden, and he’s protecting himself. We’re amazed, especially him, by the love and support he’s received, as well as for our family. He mentioned this in his eulogy. We couldn’t have imagined the number of people who came to the shiva. Yarden sat for hours, shaking hands with everyone who came to honor and comfort him. We told him, 'You can take some time alone in the room,' and he said, 'No way. People came to support and help me; they came to comfort me. I’ll sit there and shake their hands.' He said he wished he could hug each and every one of them. This shows his strength."
<< Get the Ynetnews app on your smartphone: Google Play: https://bit.ly/4eJ37pE | Apple App Store: https://bit.ly/3ZL7iNv >>
How does this strength manifest in everyday life?
"In the mornings, Yarden tries to go for walks with my dad. It’s very important to him not to stay in his room all day. Even when he doesn’t feel like going out, he forces himself to go. He says that without it, he’ll retreat into his room, and he doesn’t want that. He also listens to a lot of music. Music has always been a source of comfort and release for him. It encourages him, lifts his spirits. He spends time with friends and family. We’ve even had evenings where we laughed so hard that our stomachs hurt. There’s a mix of everything."
The journey is also physical.
"Yes. Yarden lost a lot of weight, along with muscle mass. He wants to exercise and regain his strength. He has an appetite, though he still hasn’t returned to eating meat like he used to love. But he makes sure to eat meals regularly. We all imagined something different—that he’d show behaviors he adopted during captivity, like sitting on the floor or similar things. I remember when Yarden came back, we sat and talked, and I couldn’t believe it—how is it possible that just three hours ago, you were in a tunnel? For him and for us, it will take a long time to fully understand this. Even professionals are learning new things from the returnees."
Fifty-nine hostages remain in Gaza, including Yarden’s best friend, David Cunio, and his brother Ariel. Ofri doesn’t stop advocating for their return. "People ask me if I feel relief or peace, and yes, having four family members back brings some calm. But can I tell you I’m not on edge? I read the news and want to scream. We’re on edge, shaken by negotiations, discussions and conversations. It’s devastating. Just a moment ago, I was in the same position as the other families reading these headlines, and for me, until everyone is back, we’re still in this fight together.
4 View gallery
Sylvia Cunio holds up hostage posters of her sons Ariel and David who are still held captive in Gaza
(Photo: Tomer Shunem Halevi)
"The day after the funeral, I spoke to a government minister about what happens next. I told him, 'I drove in the convoy and looked all of Israel in the eye. Everyone’s tears weren’t just for the Bibas family. People were releasing 16 months of loss, pain and questions—when will this nightmare end?' He told me, 'I’m not on the Cabinet.' Such a lack of accountability. You’re a minister in the government, in the elected party. Raise your voice to end the war, take action. We all understand that’s the way to bring the hostages back. Coming to offer condolences while doing nothing to prevent the need to console the next family—what’s the point? That’s why I didn’t want them at the shiva. They talk like they did 16 months ago, dragging their feet as if there’s time. Meanwhile, everyone was horrified by how Eli, Or and Ohad returned," she added, referring to Or Levy and Ohad Ben Ami, who were released alongside her brother.
And how are you in all this? How are you coping?
"There are moments when an image of Shiri, Ariel and Kfir suddenly flashes in my mind, imagining them here, and then I remember—they're not, and they never will be. They weren’t here for 16 months, and my daily life without them hasn’t changed—only now it’s final. The funeral didn’t create a clear break between then and now. It will take a long time to process that the longing and emptiness we’ve felt for a year and a half are permanent. I don’t really know how to make sense of such loss."