Dear Susie,

I know it is a difficult day for you (as if any other day of the year you don't remember). One of Yonatan's pictures is on the wall in the kitchen, and I think of him often when I sit at the table and see him as a young boy, a young man and a soldier (it is a collage). I wonder what he would be like now if he were here, tall and handsome, full of quiet charm. The loss is so incomprehensible.

We always love him and just wish this love could be of any help to comfort you and Maya, Boaz, Moshe, and the rest of the family.

Love,

Naomi

Mon pere m'a envoye l'adresse du site sur Yonatan. Je suis allee voir ta page de journal.

Je n'oublie pas, je n'oublierai jamais, Yonatan. Je pense a lui comme mon "jumeau" d'Israel, meme age, meres amies. Je me souviens de ma visite chez vous avec Nathalie, mon amie de France (petite, blonde, a moitie russe) lorsque Yonatan etait rentre de Grece. Il etait tout bronze, enthousiasmé: il nous avait raconte les iles, le bateau, la fete la nuit, les randonnees qu'il avait faites avec ses amis.

Je parle de lui autour de moi, pour rappeler aux gens que vivre en Israel c'est etre confronté a la guerre, a la mort, et pour qu'ils sachent qu'il a existé, que c'etait un jeune homme fort, brillant, et que ce qui est arrive est injuste.

Si tu souhaites venir te depayser en Suisse, tu seras toujours la bienvenue chez moi.

Je t'embrasse fort,

Stavia

[translation from the French]

Hello Suzie,

My father sent me the address of the site about Yonatan. I went to see your journal.

I don't forget, I will never forget, Yonatan. I think of him as a my "twin" from Israel, the same age, mothers who were friends. I remember visiting you with Nathalie, my French friend (small, blonde, half Russian) when Yonatan returned from Greece. He was bronzed, full of enthusiasm: he told us about the islands, the ship, the nights partying, the hikes with his friends.

I speak of him to people around me, to remind them that living in Israel means facing war and death all the time, so that they will know he existed, that he was a young man who was strong, and brilliant and that what happened was not fair.

If you come to Switzerland for a change of scenery, you will always be welcome at my home.

I embrace you strongly,

Stavia

That day when we stayed alone in the desert we spoke about several things, two of them were the trip you planned to Lebanon after the army and the book "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand. Next week I'm flying to South America to make my trip and try to achieve my goals. About Atlas Shrugged I didn't say my last word yet, although we didn't agree on the details, we shared the same analysis and vision so I think you will forgive me that I'm still sticking to my approach.

My name is Yitzhak Herman (Argaman). I was born in Israel in 1947, have been living in Canada for many years. I first learnt about Yonatan through a short story in the newspaper "Maariv". One of many sad stories about lives lost in Israel's endless wars. What attracted my attention was his last name: Zirkel. This is also my mother's last name.

I remember growing up in Israel, not ever knowing or meeting another Zirkel. My mother, my Grandmother and my uncle were the only Zirkels I ever new. "We are a very small family" they told me, "The rest of the family perished in the Holocaust, except for a couple of cousins who ended up in America or in Brazil but we don't know if they are alive or how to get in touch with them".

As a result of the sad news of that tragic day, and because the newspaper mentioned that Yonatan was from Kibbutz Shoval, I wrote the family and was happy (How can one be happy after reading such news?) when Batia and Shayke wrote me back and were kind enough to invite me to their home on my next visit to Israel.

When I came to visit several months later I was welcomed warmly and felt like MISHPACHA. Shayke tried to recreate for me the Zirkel family tree and family history. With my limited knowledge of the fact we could only conclude that it is likely, very likely that we are indeed relatives going back two or three generations in the small village in Ukaraine/Polsand/Russia where our great Grandfathers came from.

All of the above is just background info of how and why I fit into the picture. Family or not, I feel like I am part of you. I never knew Yonatan yet I feel your pain and sense your loss. No words could do this feeling justice. The heart and mind keep asking: Why should a young, handsome, talented, promising young man lose his life? It is beyond comprehension. Something is seriously wrong in this world if tragedies like this keep happening.

Your web page is beutiful and shows how much loved Yonatan was and how much he is missed.

Shalom and best regards, may you know no more sorrows.

Dear Batia and Shaike,

We cried, we smiled, we felt the heartbreak of losing such a young child. We marveled at Yonatan's courage.

We know that if he belonged to your family, he was special, and a very unique tribute you made for him.

We thank you from the bottom of our hearts for sharing these moments with us. 

Yonatan, we didn't know you personally, but we are certain that you are at peace, in the company of exceptional people, looking down at Israel, your beautiful family, and friends, praying for complete harmony, and a swift end to  this terrible needless suffering.

All our love,

Birdie and George

Thank you.

This is a wonderful site. I only met Yonatan once when I visited Kibutz Shoval with my grandparents in 1994, when he happily took the time to take my sister and I to float in the Dead Sea (I still have a picture of him floating with his feet and hands in the air, thumbs extended) and up to Mesada. I will always carry a memory of Yonatan's warmth and friendliness, and wish that I had a chance to really get to know him.