Shirel Golan survived the Oct. 7 massacre, but, just over a year later, the 22-year-old succumbed to its horrors and took her own life.
Now, her older brother Eyal Golan, 36, is vowing to help other survivors who are struggling.
“I swore on my sister’s grave that I will become her voice and that of all the Nova survivors,” Eyal told The Post from his parents’ garden in Porat, a quiet community in central Israel.
Shirel, the youngest of five, loved children and worked as an assistant kindergarten teacher and a chaperone for kids with special needs.
Eyal recalled how his sister was always eager to play with her eight nieces and nephews.
“Every time any of us needed a babysitter, she was the first to step up, no questions asked,” he said. “I’m trying to find the words to tell my 3-year-old daughter that their aunt won’t be coming [over] any more.”
Shirel, who had long brown hair and a nose ring, also had an artistic side and made and designed her own jewelry, selling it at festivals and the like.
“Shirel was a free spirit. She loved freedom, she loved dancing, and she loved creating,” Eyal said. “She was a fragile soul on one hand, but if you got on her nerves, she knew how to be fiery.”
She was just 20 years old when she attended the Nova Music Festival with her boyfriend of three years, Adi Gilad.
When Hamas terrorists stormed the peaceful event — killing some 400 people and kidnapping more than 40 others to Gaza — she and Gilad almost tried to escape in a vehicle that was later ambushed, leaving all 11 people crammed inside dead.
Instead, the two hid under a bush for hours until Remo Salman Al-Hozayel, an Arab-Bedouin police officer credited with saving 200 people, rescued them.
In the immediate days after the attack, Shirel seemed to be coping as well as could be expected. Her mother, Yaffa, recalled her daughter being “full of life.”
On Oct. 20, 2023, Yaffa organized a a gathering to both celebrate Shirel’s 21st birthday and express gratitude for her survival.
Around 100 women, including many of Shirel’s friends, came together for hafrashat challah — a Jewish ritual traditionally performed by women in which a portion of dough is separated while baking bread in a symbolic act of gratitude.
Shirel didn’t talk to her family about what she’d been through. They heard about it for the first time during a televised reunion between her and Al-Hozayel a month after the attacks.
“It was the most emotional conversation I have ever witnessed,” Eyal recalled. “She saw everything.”
As the months wore on, Shirel struggled, becoming increasingly withdrawn and emotionally detached. She had manic episodes and was hospitalized twice for psychiatric reasons. Her mother took early retirement to care for her.
Last August, she stopped leaving the house entirely.
“She had shut down. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, or share anything about what she was going through,” Eyal recalled. “I could see it in her eyes. Shirel was always a girl who was full of light. But now it was as if someone had turned a dimmer switch until the light went out altogether.”
On Oct. 20, he went over to his parent’s home to celebrate Sukkot. They left the house briefly to attend a blessing ceremony, leaving Shirel home alone.
“I told her, ‘Shirel, you know that you can call me whenever, at any hour.’ She just shrugged, okay, and went to her room,” he recalled.
By the time her parents returned home, their beloved youngest daughter was dead, with dozens of unread birthday messages on her phone.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t do more,” Eyal said.
He really wishes the Israeli government had done more, too.
The state initially offered just 12 therapy sessions for Nova survivors, only increasing it to 48 after an advocacy group pressured for more.
And, Eyal noted, the government-subsidized treatments are available only to those who actively seek it out. Shirel never did.
“It’s the state’s job to identify kids like my sister, who are introverted and won’t ask for help,” Eyal said. “My sister managed to extract herself from the claws of Nazi Hamas terrorists, but she couldn’t do the same when faced with the claws of Israeli bureaucracy.”
Eyal is now working to start a nonprofit for Nova survivors and their families, offering both legal aid and mental health support.
Others have already stepped in to offer survivors more support than the government has provided.
Daniel Sharabi, a former military medic, and his brother Neria were celebrated as heroes for saving dozens of lives at Nova. They used weapons they found in a damaged tank to provide fire cover for fleeing festival-goers and later treated the wounded.
In the aftermath of the attacks, they started Future for the Survivors and the Wounded, a nonprofit that offers Nova survivors psychological support, specifically through Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) — a cutting edge treatment known for helping reduce distress from traumatic memories.
Daniel, 24, credits EMDR with stopping the debilitating panic attacks he began experiencing after the attack.
“Trauma is not like a broken hand,” he said. “It’s a fracture of the heart. Just one trigger can destroy a person.”
Although his panic attacks have subsided, he still struggles with profound survivor’s guilt. His best friend, Yosef Haim Ohana, escaped the initial attack but was later abducted to Gaza and remains there. Another close friend, Karin Zourno, was burned alive.
“We couldn’t help them. That’s something I have to carry with me every hour of every day. But when I do something good it fills me, and takes the edge off some of the guilt,” Daniel said.
One of the most prominent groups to emerge from the massacre is the Tribe of Nova Foundation, which was started by some of the festival producers.
It offers a range of services for survivors, including weekly “community days” where they can access psychologists and participate in therapeutic activities and social events. Tribe also helps with work reintegration and offers sports programs to get survivors out of the house.
Nova organizer Raz Malka left his role as a portfolio manager at a Tel Aviv startup to volunteer full-time with the foundation.
“It was just the most logical thing to do,” he said. “We were coming from a place of feeling like no one understands us. As much as outsiders wanted to help, it just wasn’t effective. Only the survivors could truly understand and support each other.”
Meanwhile, the ultra-Orthodox group Kesher Yehudi aims to bridge secular and religious communities in Israel, regularly hosting hundreds of Nova survivors and the families of hostages for immersive Shabbat experiences.
Survivor Idan Mizrachi recently attended a two-day retreat in Jerusalem organized by Kesher Yehudi.
For Mizrachi, memories of the attack linger and at times paralyze him. Certain scenes remain etched in his mind, including a chilling moment when an unarmed young man, appearing to be a Gaza civilian, leapt onto a car and slaughtered its driver with a boxcutter before driving off in the vehicle.
Being part of these retreats helps Mizrachi restore some of his trust in humanity.
“The world became scary after October 7. It’s hard for me to trust people again,” he said. “Seeing that there are still people who want to do good is healing.”
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988.
