Shoval – January 30, 1998
Yonatan, when I stand here in the open countryside, with the fields of wheat
and cypresses, and in that air of the Shoval fields, I remember how much you
loved nature and especially our countryside, this Shoval countryside, that was
so much a part of you and that you were so attached to.
When I think of you, I remember our Shabbat visits, and
the longer visits that
occurred before the army. And from the brief visits during the army, when you
were in a constant race, and you had no time for anything except the business of
your army unit - what you had to prepare, and how to get ready. Before my eyes I
see your smile, as if you were here. With that gap between the teeth and the one
tooth slightly broken at the tip - something that made you look like a child, mischievous.
The brown eyes, warm, and the smiling, kind look.
More than once I asked you aunt-like questions, and I was undoubtedly a nudnik
sometimes, and you didn't really want to answer, yet always answered me
politely, with a little humor, and sometimes more in depth when you felt like
talking. There was in you a blend of masculinity and softness, and it made being
with you pleasant and easy. I am so sorry that I didn't manage to talk to you
more. Time was short and you had a lot to do, a lot of plans that didn't allow
you you sit idle or to chat - like you used to enjoy doing before the army.
Yonatan, all of us at home remember you, want to go on remembering you - through
the pictures looking at us from the wall in each home in our family and in
meetings with each of our family members - in each of them there remains
something of you. We will all remember you always.
Iris Goren, Yonatan's aunt