The blue Israeli sky will turn orange again as dozens of balloons rise in unison, each one a small beacon of memory and hope. A child named Kfir Biba, the youngest hostage linked to the Hamas crisis, serves as a quiet reminder that families at home have not forgotten their loved ones. After more than 100 days of captivity, the first birthday of a red-haired Argentinian-Israeli baby united the nation in quiet solidarity. The great-aunt, Edith Silberman, broke into tears in the heart of Tel Aviv’s Plaza de los Cautivos, a place that has come to symbolize the pain of hundreds of families whose relatives remain unreturned. A correspondent who speaks Spanish with a distinct Argentinian accent captured the moment, noting the unwavering determination of those at home to keep hope alive. Shiri Bibas, a mother who shared the burden with her husband, was abducted along with her child Kfir in October. Before that tragic Saturday, no one could have imagined that the infant born only months earlier would become a symbol of endurance, a first-year life paused by captivity.
Kfir Biba’s face appears in many corners of Israel, a visual reminder of a family’s ordeal and a country’s shared concern over the fates of the 136 hostages believed to still be in Hamas captivity. Israel confirmed that 27 of the missing had died, and some bodies remained in the hands of Palestinian militias. The baby’s innocent gaze and small mouth challenge passers-by to doubt his survival. In late November, Hamas conducted strikes that killed Kfir, Ariel, and Shiri, a tragedy reported amid ongoing conflict. The father, Yarden, survived the ordeal after they were separated at the start of the captivity. A subsequent video release by the militant group purportedly confirmed the family’s death, prompting a furious response from Yarden who, overwhelmed with emotion, addressed the Israeli leadership and the world in tearful terms about the loss suffered by his family.
Hamas has described the allegations of bloodshed against Bibas’s family as part of a broader strategy of psychological warfare, while the Israeli government has not confirmed these claims. The group points to another entity believed to hold Bibas, though specifics remain unclear. This has led to a shared sentiment among Israeli leaders and families of hostages—a fragile common ground formed around the language of fear and concern. An underlying current among relatives is the sense of abandonment, a feeling that anyone could be next, and the unwavering resolve to maintain public support both at home and abroad. A relative commented on the public support as a lifeline and sent appreciation to Silberman, who also lost a brother and an aunt on the day of the initial raid. In Nir Oz, relatives of Kfir gathered at a nursery to mark what some called the world’s saddest birthday, a ceremony that highlighted the painful distance between a family and a birthday cake, balloons, and photographs that will forever remain incomplete.
A cousin of Shiri described the scene to Reuters with stark honesty. They spoke of baking a cake, placing balloons, and arranging blessings, all while the birthday boy was absent from the room. Activism for the return of the missing moved others to participate, with Yosi Shnaider dedicating himself to the cause. Even months after the October 7 events, Nir Oz and its surrounding communities remain frozen in time, haunted by the memory of neighbors who were killed or abducted that day. Some of the released captives who survived, including women and children, were prioritized in a six-day ceasefire and prisoner exchange that followed, though Bibas’s name did not surface in these negotiations.
The community continues to face the stark reality that life feels paused. The public, displaying orange symbols as a sign of remembrance, keeps a quiet vigil that refuses to let the missing be forgotten. The forum for relatives of hostages and missing persons has become a steadfast voice, urging leaders to act and insisting that time does not erase the longing for return. For many, the struggle is personal: the color orange is not a simple hue but a banner of resilience that travels from city streets to family kitchens where births, birthdays, and everyday moments are forever changed by the absence of loved ones. Across the country, families and friends keep their stories alive, balancing sorrow with the stubborn belief that life will resume when the missing are finally safe at home. The tragedy has touched tens of thousands and has left an indelible mark on a nation that continues to grieve, but also to hope and to persist through a long, difficult process of recovery and reconciliation.