At the cemetery of Kibbutz Nir Oz on Monday, residents and families gathered for a second memorial ceremony marking the October 7th massacre — described by the community spokesperson as “a deluge of fury and violence for which nothing had prepared us.”
On that day, the kibbutz lost 65 of its members and 83 residents were captured from their homes. According to the kibbutz, four hostages managed to escape, three were murdered on the way, and 76 were taken to Gaza. Nine of them remain in captivity.
In a statement released by the kibbutz, the community said: “Two years on, we continue to struggle — first and foremost for the release of our loved ones still held in captivity. At the same time, we try to rebuild our lives, each in our own way, while carrying the mourning and pain of losing so many friends. We are here to honor those whose lives were cut short by a cruel and unforgivable blow, and whose absence we feel every day, every hour.”
The statement also paid tribute to the kibbutz’s rapid response team: “We came here to thank our defenders for their courage and bravery — for leaving their families to protect us at the risk of their lives, when no one else could save us. We also cry out for our loved ones still in the darkness of Gaza, enduring two long, terrible years in degrading conditions. We weep for our beautiful Nir Oz, now a heap of ruins, and for our community that will never return to what it was. Yet we also light a candle of hope — for rebuilding and renewal, each in our own way.”
Among the speakers was Sagui Dekel-Chen, a survivor of captivity: “Somehow, in a dizzying way, I survived. I am above all this — but not after all this. This is my first time at the cemetery. During captivity, in my dreams and thoughts, I was often here without knowing the names or how small some of the coffins are."
“I remember you — from the sandbox and Lego, the desert motorcycle trips, the garage grease, coffee on the porch, a smile along the path. From the holiday just before the war. From the conversation by the clinic on the morning of the attack. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you, to cover you. I’m sorry I’m not helping the families enough. Tomorrow I’ll still remember you.”
Eili Markovitz, another Nir Oz resident, reflected on the ongoing ordeal: “This is the second time we stand here and mark the day when everything fell apart. Our loved ones are a fingertip away, screaming, and their voices are not heard. 731 days — for us two years, for them an eternity. We cry out, protest, strike, pray — but they are still not here. Maybe it’s beyond our power to bring them back, but it is within our power and our duty to keep trying. We must shout ‘this is not normal.’ We must call out their names and show their photos everywhere. We must make a sound that will reach them and give them air for another day in hell.”
Dafna Margalit, wife of Eliyahu Margalit, who remains in captivity, shared her determination to return and rebuild: “I was given the title ‘pioneer’ against my will, but I am proud of it because I belong to the group that came — and will come — to Nir Oz. People ask me what I’ll do there. For me, ‘there’ is here. My answer: ‘I will be here.’
“I called for my return to Nir Oz — to life — life I will regain here. At first in the place where I was with Eli, Noa, Dani, and Nili. I feel as though I am draining swamps, a swamp we have been submerged in for two years. On this small plot in Nir Oz, I hope to create a living, flourishing place — carrying the memory of what it was before October 7 and what happened on that cursed Simchat Torah. This will be the start of drying the national swamp."
“I have come back to Nir Oz for good, and perhaps here I can recover some of the joy that has vanished from my heart. I am waiting for Eli and for all the hostages — the living for rehabilitation and the fallen for burial. Only then can we begin to rebuild.”