Israel has buried its last hostage of the Gaza war, Ran Gvili, but many Palestinians have been kept waiting for similar closure, after the bodies of their relatives were returned in such poor condition that experts are struggling to identify them.
Gaza's Health Ministry said it received the remains of 15 Palestinians handed over through the Red Cross, continuing a hostage-and-detainee exchange agreed under US President Donald Trump's ceasefire plan.
The 15 “were killed in Gaza and in prisons, where their bodies had been held throughout the war,” said Moein Al Waheedi, the head of a Health Ministry committee for receiving bodies.
It brings the total to 360 bodies received by Gaza officials under the ceasefire deal, which required Israel to hand over the remains of 15 Palestinians for every deceased Israeli hostage returned by Hamas.
But for families already devastated by loss, the return of remains has opened a new chapter of anguish. Mr Al Waheedi said the bodies arrived in extremely poor condition, making identification difficult even for trained professionals.
“We are forced to rely on primitive methods, personal belongings, clothing, or any remaining facial features,” he said. “These methods are ineffective and allow us to identify only a very small number of bodies.”
Inside overwhelmed medical centres, teams work with limited resources to document and identify the remains before handing them over to families.
Without laboratory or genetic testing equipment in Gaza, many families are left waiting, unsure whether they will ever be able to bury their loved ones properly. Israel tightly restricts the entry of supplies to the territory, often blocking items it claims could have military uses.
“We are calling for the entry of laboratory and genetic testing equipment so families can receive their loved ones, honour them, and bury them,” Mr Al Waheedi added.
Graves violated
For some families, graves have already been violated once.
Despite persistent danger, Sufyan Abu Mutair, 42, returned last week to Al Batsh Cemetery in Gaza city, searching for what remained of his son Rushdi’s resting place. Rushdi was killed in August 2024.
“My son was my entire life,” Mr Abu Mutair told The National. “The day I lost him was the worst day of my life. I never imagined a day worse than that, but it came when I lost his grave.”
Israeli bulldozing had flattened large parts of the cemetery. Where Rushdi’s grave once stood, Mr Abu Mutair found only broken stone and a mound of sand.
“I found the plaque with his name smashed. The grave itself was gone,” he said. “I tried digging through the sand. I thought maybe I could recognise him by the clothes he was buried in. But there was nothing.”
Standing among the ruins, Mr Abu Mutair described a grief that feels endless. “I lost my son. Then I lost his body. This heartbreak will stay with me for the rest of my life.”
Mohammad Abu Nada, 31, lost his brother Ibrahim, Ibrahim’s wife Lamyaa, and two of their children in early 2024. They were buried in Al Batsh Cemetery. Two other children survived but were seriously wounded and later sent abroad for treatment.
For months, the graves were a place of weekly visits, especially for Mr Abu Nada’s parents, who asked repeatedly to be taken there. Then, access to the area was cut off for nearly eight months as eastern Gaza was occupied and residents were displaced.
“When the ceasefire was signed, we went back,” Mr Abu Nada told The National. “At first, the graves were still there. I visited them more than once.”
Then came the revelation last week that the cemetery was being excavated in Israel's search for its final hostage, Mr Gvili.
“For two days, the army worked in the cemetery. We were terrified,” Mr Abu Nada recalled. “We kept praying the graves would remain, at least as witnesses to our loved ones.”
They did not. After the military withdrew, Abu Nada returned to the cemetery. “There were no graves. No markers. Nothing,” he said.
Despite the danger, families entered the area, digging through piles of sand. They found bones and decomposed remains, but no way to identify them. With no access for forensic teams, families buried whatever remains they found in a large pit left behind.
“Today, my brother, his wife, and their two sons have no graves. No bodies. We can no longer visit them,” Abu Nada said. “All of this happened because of the body of a soldier.”
Across Gaza, families are mourning not only the dead, but the loss of dignity after death. “The dead are supposed to be treated with dignity everywhere in the world,” Abu Mutair said. “But here, even that right has been taken.”
