By Leah Garber
For 843 days—through tense, agonizing anticipation marked by immense suffering and pain—we yearned for these five words.
The clouds of war have faded, the thunder of artillery quieted, yet still we counted every day since 251 hostages were taken to Gaza. Until today. Today is the day the remains of Staff Sergeant Ran Gvili, an IDF soldier, hero of Israel, and the last hostage, were finally located and identified. May his memory be a blessing.
At 2:30 p.m. Israel time, an IDF spokesperson announced that “Operation Brave Heart” had succeeded. After painstaking searches in the Gaza City cemetery, Ran Gvili, the special unit fighter who fell defending Kibbutz Alumim on October 7, had been identified at the Institute of Forensic Medicine. For the first time since 2014, no hostages remain in Gaza.
Ran Gvili was 24 years old. He was killed in battle at Kibbutz Alumim and taken by Hamas terrorists—the first to enter Gaza, the last to come home. Ran took pride in being a police officer, in wearing the blue uniform. On that black Saturday morning, he was at home recovering from a fractured shoulder he had sustained in a motorcycle accident. But the moment he heard about the terrorist infiltration, without hesitation and despite his pain, he put on his uniform and rushed to help his unit. Along the way, he encountered terrorists and fought with extraordinary courage at the entrance of Kibbutz Alumim, which earned him the name “Ran, Shield of Alumim.” He saved the lives of dozens of people at the Nova Music Festival before falling in battle, his body taken to Gaza.
Only now can the State of Israel truly breathe deeply again—without the crushing weight of guilt. The last hostage has come home for burial and to receive the eternal rest befitting a hero who was abandoned for far too long.
Today, tears flow once more. The wellspring of sorrow has burst open, bringing back the searing pain, the shame of abandonment, the grief for what is lost forever.
With trembling hands, I removed the yellow bracelet from my wrist, hesitating still over the necklace with the hostage symbol around my neck. Should I remove it too, or leave it there to stand guard over my heart, keeping watch over the memory of those who will never return?
The stain of October 7 will never be erased. The scar remains—deep and raw—reminding us always of that black Shabbat, and the terrible war that followed. But now, with bowed heads, we ask Ran and his family for forgiveness for taking so long to bring him home. Now, finally, an entire nation can begin the slow work of healing, rebuilding, and rehabilitating. Despite our great sorrow, through eyes filled with tears, we can finally look forward with hope.
Dear Ran and the beloved Gvili family, at last, your struggle has ended. You can gather together now and weep, mourn freely, without holding back tears or summoning strength to fight on. Your Rani, our Rani, has come home.
There are no more hostages in Gaza.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזַּמַן הַזֶּה
Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.
Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Sovereign of all, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.
Leah Garber is a senior vice president of JCC Association of North America and director of its Center for Israel Engagement in Jerusalem.