Kibbutz Shoval January 30, 1998

[translated from Hebrew]

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

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