The son of Ruth and Mordechai was born on Hanukkah, December 11, 1983 in Tel Aviv, a second child after his older sister Tali and a brother to Shai, who was born a year and three months after him. He studied at the Ayalon High School in Tel Aviv and played in the Bnei Yehuda-Ayalon basketball team where he served as coordinator and was chosen for the outstanding player of the time. At the same time, Benny participated in drawing competitions as part of the Philatelic Service and in the first grade won a prize for stamp design on behalf of the Haifa Municipality. The family moved to Kiryat Krinizi in Ramat Gan, where he continued his studies at the Weizmann School and later graduated from Blich High School, where he played football in the neighborhood group and developed the field of painting on comics and caricatures. In March 2003 he joined the army and served in the Nachshon Battalion in the Kfir Brigade, and his military career was evident at the beginning of his career. My son has charisma and the ability to attract my life He served as a commander in the battalion’s battalion and completed his service as a platoon commander in the company, and throughout his service and in the various positions he performed, he maintained a high level of professionalism and professionalism. And at the end of his military service, he went on a trip to South America and enrolled in communications and marketing studies at the College of Management in Rishon Letzion.In the second year of his studies during Operation Cast Lead he was called up for reserve duty in the Tulkarem area between the settlements Avnei Hefetz and Einav. As part of his reserve service, he was killed in a road accident. My son was hospitalized at the Rabin Medical Center in Petah Tikva after three days of fighting for his life. Staff Sergeant Benny Blumenkrantz fell during his service on the 25th of Tevet 5769 (25.1.2009). He was twenty-five when he fell. He was laid to rest in the military section of the Kiryat Shaul cemetery in Tel Aviv. Survived by his parents – Ruth and Mordechai, sister Tal and brother. After his fall, he was promoted to the rank of sergeant. My son was immortalized in several places – in the memorial of the fallen of the Kfir Brigade, at the Kfir junction in Afula, at Yad Labanim in Ramat Gan, in memory and heroism in the Dan region, at the Dori camp – at the Tel Hashomer base, in the monument at the College of Management in Rishon Letzion, The monks near Modi’in and the “Tree of Life” monument at the Sheba Heart Institute at Tel Hashomer. “I think that the whole connection between us was based on being in the same place at the same time, at the same age. We came with other friends, but my son and I found ourselves sitting on the back steps of the world sharing a cigarette, sharing thoughts, apparently sharing a memory, and the first time we met were 16-year-olds. The adventurers belong to two groups of friends he has gathered together, from the Blich High School in Ramat Gan, and we From the “Kalai” high school in Givatayim, where my son was a fighter in Nachshon, and I was a soldier in the Kirya, and we met at the time as soldiers, one of my soldiers and one of the soldiers, could meet. It’s been a whileNaim and in between we happened to meet at a bar in Tel Aviv in the small hours of the night or on the birthday of a mutual friend. Sometimes it just happened in the middle of the street, on the way to work or back from the parents. On the way to buy cigarettes in Pizzeria or South America in Bariloche, Argentina, when I was debating what to eat, my son came out of some dark corner that had nothing to do with a schnitzel. It’s not the schnitzel or the cigarettes. It’s not the parties soldiers, and it’s not that fate that in the minute brought me and him to share it prominently floored and painted on another continent without even getting in sync. that’s more. much more. It’s more than one minute or a collection of moments. It’s a way of life. The way of life of my son. Three weeks before the accident, we met in a place we both love the most. At sea. It was a winter day with sun and waves. My son came out of the water with the surfboard and caught me. He begins to approach me, and I stand up at the scene. In a moment there would be a hug and a masculine kiss. My son smiles, not at me, generally just smiling, he is happy about life. I’m looking for a lighter, and meanwhile Benny got himself a foot on the sand and sat down. He has a phone. It’s his boss. “My son, where are you? You’re not at work!” You hear the boss shouting at the beach. “Relax, boss … I’m at work …” – Benny is not excited, and certainly does not raise his voice. “You’re not at work! I’m here!” The boss shoves my son into a corner. “Boss, I’m at work, believe me I’m at work, but it’s just another job … I’m going to talk to you later … Now I’m just working on the tan …” – Benny ends the conversation and we both get torn with such laughter. I want to ask him how the water is, how you can even ski in this cold, and if he is not worried that there is a situation and he has no work. I want to ask how he always has that smile on his face, but without my asking he answered me. “Just paradise here, believe me …” – Benny throws in the air and lights the latch … so you’ll understand I want to tell you that my son was like you. Just like you. He worked in shifts, he surfed at sea, he did reserve duty, he smoked and drank, he fixed with friends, he had dreams, and he made mistakes. Just like you. Like you, but a hundred times better. A million times. Anyone who knew Benny knew he was an angel, but even those who did not know him and just looked at him for a moment realized that this was a very limited edition. From any conversation with him it was possible to create material for a romantic comedy that broke conventions and boundaries. When everyone was busy with everyone, my son and I had ten minutes of our own. We asked each other a million questions and jumped from topic to topic without deciding what we decided. I think we laughed at a minimum of words. There are many sad things in death, but the saddest thing is that there is hierarchy and classes of pain. Father, mother, brother, sister, best friend, and the love that remained quiet and alone. The one who took the last test with him and the two of them failed at all, the one who shared a last shift with him in the cafe but mainly drank beer, the one who got the last phone from him but was not available, or the one who gave him the car. I remember that after a year I looked at the cell phone’s memories of his name. I wanted so much to call. I wanted to tell him it was a day for the beach and that maybe we’d meet. I wanted to tell him that his friends remember all the time not only during exciting memorial days that I do not go to. There are people you meet in life and you will never forget it. Benny Blumenkrantz was one of those, “wrote Avichai Nizri, the commander of the song’s children,” You will not come back. “You will not come back, look how we became old children who are afraid of change. , The longing that itched, and the memory, a picture that was covered, a dust that did not descend, we were in colors and three dimensions, and now one dimension is gray, white and blackMajor. You will not come back anymore, wearing a designer t-shirt, transparent bags from the kiosk, and the keys of the car holding a blue parliament, and four cold cans, even though you could buy a big bottle. You will not come back, breathe a last cigarette, just a conversation that stretches, invests until sunrise. We fall in dreams, look at the ceiling, lie on our backs, promise to stay and stay as we are now. But you will not come back, even though sometimes I still imagine it is.
