WATCH: Israel’s children release orange balloons for the Bibas family’s final journey

Today, the sky above Israel turned orange, a vivid hue of sorrow and solidarity, as schoolchildren in Kiryat Gat released a cascade of orange balloons into the wind. Their small hands let go of strings tied to memories they’ll never fully grasp, marking the funeral of Shiri Bibas and her sons, Ariel and Kfir—three souls stolen by Hamas, returned only in silence after 510 days of torment. Across the country, from Rishon LeZion’s crowded streets to the quiet fields near Kibbutz Nir Oz, a nation weeps with them, clutching Israeli flags and orange balloons that bob like embers against a gray horizon.

In Ashdod, the Assuta Public Hospital joined the tribute, releasing 510 orange balloons—one for each day the Bibas family endured captivity since their abduction on October 7, 2023. The number stings: 510 days of prayers unanswered, of a mother’s arms emptied, of a toddler’s laughter and a baby’s coos silenced by hands too cruel to fathom. The balloons, bright as the red hair of Ariel, 4, and Kfir, just 9 months old when taken, floated upward as a fragile farewell, a symbol of a love that outlasts even the darkest hate.

The children of Kiryat Gat, many too young to remember a time before this war, stood in solemn rows, their balloons slipping free as teachers whispered the names: Shiri, Ariel, Kfir. These are the displaced children of Nir Oz, their community shattered by that fateful October day, now piecing together hope in Kiryat Gat’s temporary shelters. Their gesture mirrored the nation’s pulse: a heartbeat of grief, yes, but also of defiance—a refusal to let these lives fade into shadow.

The funeral procession carved a path through Israel’s heart, from Rishon LeZion at 7:45 a.m. to the Tzohar Cemetery near Nir Oz, where Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir will rest at last. Thousands lined the route, flags rippling, tears falling, orange balloons dotting the air like a constellation of loss. Yarden Bibas, the husband and father who survived captivity only to face this unbearable void, stayed private with family for the burial, asking the nation to hold him from afar. “We see and hear you, and are moved and strengthened by you,” the family said in a statement, Yarden’s words a fragile thread reaching out to a people longing to shield him.

This is no ordinary goodbye. Shiri, clutching her boys in that haunting October footage, became Israel’s every mother; Ariel and Kfir, with their fiery curls, its every child. Their murders cut deeper than words can carry. Hamas’s belated return of their bodies, after a chilling delay marked by a mistaken corpse, only sharpened the anguish. Yet today, as orange balloons rose from Kiryat Gat and Ashdod, they carried more than grief: they bore a promise—to remember, to stand, to fight so no more skies need weep in color.

As the balloons drifted high, a boy in Kiryat Gat looked up and whispered, “Maybe they’ll see them from heaven.” Maybe they will. For now, Israel holds its breath, its children’s hands empty but its spirit unbroken, as three gentle flames are laid to earth.