Between Heaven and Earth: A memorial to the Bibas family

Let's pause for a moment.

Let's pause from the horrors that terror seeks to plant within us, from the cruel attempt to shake us, to hurt us, to break us at our most painful point – and there to triumph.

We will not let them.

We will not let them turn our pain into a weapon in their hands. Let's refuse to surrender our spirit.

Let's turn our gaze away from them – and look at ourselves. And listen to our voice – the voice of the eternal people, a people who walked thousands of years through stormy waves, experienced destruction and exile, but never ceased moving forward. A people whose blood was absorbed in the dust.

Let's return to the true story.

The story that didn't begin today – and won't end here.

A story of a people that wasn't erased, didn't surrender, didn't perish – but only grew stronger.

A people that knew destruction, but always rebuilt. A people that knew loss, but never lost its soul.

Let's remember where our strength lies.

Not in images of evil, but in the light of eternity.

And yes, there is no doubt.

No doubt at all.

No doubt it would have been a moving and tearful sight – if it had happened, if they had returned alive.

Among the shadows, a family embraced together, like flower stems in a windless field. Father, mother, and two small children, their innocence illuminating the darkness, clutching each other, seeking to become one inseparable soul. One can almost feel the warmth of holding hands, hear the heartbeats pulsing together, like a silent prayer rising to heaven. This is a moment where time ceases to exist, where all pain dissolves into infinite light, light of love that will never dim.

There is no doubt. In this moment, where their dreams and hopes merge in the embrace of a family reuniting. Tears would flow naturally, testament to the power of love, to its endless strength.

But precisely here, precisely from death, from the paralyzing pain, from the longing, from the darkness so black, covered in black coffins, where there is only silence, only pain, only shadows. Precisely there, in the depth of that coffin, dressed in enormous and painful disappointment – precisely there, the understanding will become clear that it belongs only to us. A stranger will not understand.

The understanding that the coffin, black as black, is not the end. It is a gateway that opens to infinite expanses of supreme good.

In the distance between heaven and earth, they are there – wrapped in mercy, illuminated in the presence of the blessed God, in a place where every heartbreak is healed, and every shadow of pain is erased. No more worries, no more fears, no more anxieties. There, under the wings of the Divine Presence, they sing songs of praise, delight in the radiance of the Divine Presence, know boundless serenity.

Because there, in the upper Garden of Eden, there are no separations. There, love doesn't cease, but continues to grow stronger.

The Bibas family is embraced together, eternal as creation itself.

Shiri, whose love accompanied her children at every step, envelops them even now, but no longer in tears – but in clear light without shadow. The children smile again, giggling in her arms, running, rushing about, delighting, free from all pain, from all suffering.

Because there, in the upper Garden of Eden, there are no separations. There is only love – love that never ends, never stops. Only continues to grow stronger.

The Bibas family is embraced together, eternal as creation itself.

And we, here in our earthly world, carry their memory, hold onto their love, remember them not in pain alone – but also in hope. Sending a great prayer to Yarden, to give him new strength, to find in his heart the power and hope to continue waiting, to continue to wait. To believe that it's not over. That a day will come, and God willing, he will meet them again.

In a world without bereavement, without crying, without separation.

And when the moment comes, when souls reunite again, it won't be an end – it will be redemption.

There, beyond the veil of flesh and time, his children's smiling faces will return to him, their arms will open to him and call him "Abba" in a loud voice, full of joy. No more longing, no more pain – only love. Infinite love, complete, without lack.

But until then, until the day comes when all will be understood, we are here, continuing to carry their light. We will continue to live, continue to love, continue to believe – for this is their victory, for this is our victory.

They have not been extinguished.

Their light is hidden, but does not fade. It continues to burn in the eternal skies.

They have not disappeared.

Their love is engraved in hearts, their voice still echoes in the wind.

They continue to shine.

Their light does not dim – it has only grown stronger, and it will accompany us until the day we reunite.

Soon in our days, Amen.