Three generations lost: The Bibas family's agony ends in grief at an Israeli cemetery

For over 16 months, the Bibas family clung to a fragile hope, dreaming of a reunion that would defy the horrors of October 7, 2023, when Hamas militants tore Shiri Bibas and her sons, Kfir and Ariel, from their home in Kibbutz Nir Oz—an abduction that seared their image into the world’s conscience as a stark emblem of cruelty. That hope shattered this week as Shiri, 4-year-old Ariel, and 9-month-old Kfir were buried in Tzohar Cemetery on February 26, 2025, mourned by a nation and eulogized by Shiri’s sister, Dana Silverman Siton, the family’s sole survivor, whose wrenching words laid bare a lineage of love now extinguished across three generations.

The roots of this tragedy stretch back to Yossi Silverman and Margit Keshet, immigrants who forged a life of purpose in Israel’s Negev. Yossi, born in 1956 in Argentina, was a founder of Kibbutz Karmim near Dimona, where he met Margit, a Peruvian-born educator whose warmth shaped generations as a beloved kindergarten teacher. They later settled in Nir Oz, raising two daughters: Dana, who moved to her husband’s moshav a short drive away, and Shiri, who stayed in the kibbutz with her husband, Yarden Bibas, and their boys. Yossi, an agricultural worker and artist who taught painting, and Margit, a nurturing soul, filled their home with creativity and care—a sanctuary torched by Hamas on that fateful day. After three agonizing weeks listed as missing, their bodies were found, confirming they were murdered in their house; Yossi was 67, Margit 63.

The massacre’s reach was mercilessly broad. On the Friday before October 7, Dana hosted her parents, Shiri, Yarden, and the boys at her home in Moshav Yesha—a final gathering before the abyss. The next morning, as Dana and her family barricaded themselves in their safe room amid battles outside, ten minutes away her sister’s family faced unimaginable terror: Shiri and her sons kidnapped, Yossi and Margit slain. Yarden, released alive on February 1, 2025, after a ceasefire, endured 500 days of torment only to bury his wife and children this week, their bodies returned in a grim coda.

At the funeral, Dana’s voice trembled with memory and defiance as she spoke of Shiri, whom she nicknamed “Baz” (Hawk). “We grew up in a home of love, compassion, and understanding,” she said. “Dad and Mom raised us to be strong, to cherish others, to respect difference. Shiri was the sweet one—I was the pest. We’d pick up the kids from kindergarten and head to Mom and Dad’s, where they’d rush to hug Ariel and Kfir, leaving Shiri and me laughing that we were obsolete. That was their love—boundless, special.” Her plea soared heavenward: “Please, five angels of mine, watch over us. Baz, hug Mom and Dad for me. Send us strength to banish evil and leave only good. I promise those monsters beyond the fence won’t break us—they’ve already lost, because we’ve united, grown invincible.”

Avinoam Blumenkrantz, representing Kibbutz Tze’elim, Yarden’s birthplace, called the Keshet-Bibas-Silverman clan “a family of lions,” their multi-generational loss a wound felt across Israel. “You fought to the last breath,” he said. Dana’s resolve echoed that fight, a vow that the family’s spirit would endure. Yet beneath the unity lies a scathing truth: in a Jewish state built as a refuge, the failure to protect three generations of one family—from grandparents cultivating a kibbutz dream to a mother and infants snatched from their safe room—casts a shadow over the promise of sanctuary, a betrayal as profound as the grief it birthed.

Ynet contributed to this report.