Segev, Nimrod (Nimrodi)

Ben Iris and Yehezkel (Hezi). He was born in Rosh Pina, on the 11th of Cheshvan 5737 (23.10.1977). Brother to Ehud. Fourth generation in the colony. He studied at the Vilkomich Elementary School in Rosh Pina and completed his studies at the “Ort Hazor HaGlilit” Education Campus. Nimrod joined the IDF on the last day of March 1996. He studied at a high-tech college in Herzliya and was certified as a computer engineer for Microsoft Corp. Until his last day he worked for the company in a senior position, and his personal charm, Nimrod loved his choice of heart Iris, and on 5 October 2003 they embraced their son, Omer. During the Second Lebanon War, Nimrod was called up for reserve duty in Order 8 and went to Lebanon with the Merkava tank, which served as a charge Tu B’Av 5766 (9 August 2006) was killed in a battle in southern Lebanon when his tank, which was looking at tractors that had built a new traffic artery in the village of Aita al-Shaab, was hit by a roadside bomb and immediately hit by an anti-tank missile. Nimrod and all the tank crew were killed by the explosion of the missile and the ammunition that was in the tank. Nimrod was twenty-eight years old when he fell. He was laid to rest in the military cemetery in Rosh Pina. He left behind a wife, son, parents and brother. After his fall he was promoted to the rank of sergeant. Nimrod’s tombstone was engraved with his own words, from the poem “I was Jumped” that he wrote four days before he was killed: “In the end they fight, like animals / to live, for the quiet inside.” Nimrodi was truly the best in the world, and Nimrodi passed away on Valentine’s Day and left me with a love that never ends.In May 2001 I came to a birthday party for one of my daughter’s friends in the garden We were not as close to each other as we were in the movies … At one point I approached him and asked him if he was the sorcerer’s apprentice. He answered, with his conqueror’s smile, that he was the brother of the magician and that they had no test drive … He gave me his card and said: It was Nimrod, my Nimrodi, and I, who had undergone painful marriages and divorces, did not hurry to call even though I did not stop thinking about him, and he did not give up and turned to the mother of the birthday girl to ask me to contact him After a while I did what I did not like to do … I called, as if something stronger than me had connected us, and from the first phone call we knew that we were destined for each other. We married and brought our son Omar to the world. Every day, every hour and every minute with Nimrodi was an unimaginable happiness and I do not exaggerate. So it really was. We lived the moment as if we knew our time was fixed. As if there was no tomorrow. The fact that Nimrodi was eight years younger than me had never changed anything but the opposite. I felt that beyond being the loving husband and the true friend he was the father I had not had and had lost when I was a child. Nimrod insisted on going to war even though I begged him not to go. With the induction, when no drinking water was found, Hezi, Nimrod’s father, arrived at the assembly area and brought Nimrod water bottles. Nimrod, who always took care of everyone, distributed all the bottles of water and he himself dried up and even needed treatment at the hospital. Despite this, he did not give up the service. The night before he was killed, he came home unexpectedly. I danced happy when he arrived, we ate, the whole family, EroWe had dinner and in the morning before we parted we went out for breakfast together. We always loved to talk and talk endlessly, and this time, unlike our habit, we held hands and remained silent. We parted in hugs and kisses. When I cried Nimrod smiled and said: ‘Hey little, everything is small …’ A few hours later, when he did not call, I called him and he said he could not talk. I sent him a message: ‘Love’ and he sent back, ‘I’m more’. The next day, in the afternoon, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I could not find my soul. I went out into the street and shouted: ‘My husband is in Lebanon. Something bad happened to him. ‘ That night, Tu B’Av – Valentine’s Day – the officers knocked on my door. ” Dear Aunt Nimrod, I see the many people who came here to share with us our love for you and our pain, and I want to tell them about you, Your mother, my sister Iris, a special woman, wise, sensitive, courageous, raised you and Ehud for freedom and independence, and from the day you were born, she honored you with your own will and opinion. , And taught you to recognize yourself and to be faithful to who you are, inspired by your blossoming and empowering and becoming the charming man you are, and my chest, your father. From a young age you knew that your family was not just a father and a mother and two children, there was always another boy or young man, lonely or lost, whom my chest embraced and gathered for your home and gave them love And a warm home, from which you have received the generosity and giving, and Ehud, your brother, your other half, an artist and a creative young man, full of vision and initiative, and as charming as you are, a brother who is bound to you with bonds of love and admiration for you, and your friendship only strengthens the blood ties between you. , That from the very first moment you saw her, you knew she was the only one for you. And from the first moment we saw her, we fell in love with her. Gentle and wise. Natural and sincere. And your love is so great, wrap up your little family and shine everyone around you with warmth and joy. Wicky, the girl Iris’s that I hugged you. Vicki who taught you to be a father even before your child was born. Who knew in her young senses that you were a cliff, and clung to you, and she had warmth and love and security. And your Omer, who brought your love and giving to new heights. The sweet and wise baby that is decreed on him will always remind us of you, that you are not. And there was another place in your great heart for the large family, the family of Grandmother Aviva and Grandpa Dov, and Grandma Henni, and all the friends and acquaintances and the students. Everyone you knew and touched, received a gift of love from you. All these were your world, and you are their whole world. And we all cling to you, and seek to tighten your hold on us, and strengthen. Because today we will have to learn to live with bereavement within us. Because today we are bereaved. And we do not know how. We do not know. “Ehud Segev, Nimrod’s brother, who was known as a mentalist around the world, received the news of Nimrod’s death while on a tour of the resort city of Cancun, Mexico, where he spent many flying hours before arriving in Israel for the funeral, “The soldiers of the United States, the army of South Lebanon, UN representatives, American soldiers, Irish, Italians, NATO forces and the people of every religion and every color … I am a magician, I make the audience wonder and laugh, I make things disappear and reappear, but right now I’m lost because I do not have any magic word A sea or a magic wand that will bring back my beautiful brother, Nimrod, I saw the hunger in India, the hatred in Kosovo, the remnants of the war in SurreyYabu. I can not forget the painful event in the wake of the Twin Towers disaster and everything that followed. The heart pinched and the tears tried to wash away the pain. But from the pain of the day I can not escape, it is an endless pain that does not pass. I know that all the prayers in the world, all the territories given or returned, not even all the money in the world will not give me back the only brother I ever had or will have, my other half, the closest person to me in the world. I try to think what my brother, whose remains are in this coffin, would tell me now. I think he would just smile at me and say, “Ehud, take advantage of what you are going through to do something good for you and for others.” So here, for you, Nimrod, my dear brother, I will draw strength from this unbearable pain and this power I will translate into a specific purpose for something practical to help others. In his life, Nimrod was a quiet flame that guided me, my great wise brother. In his death, Nimrod gave me the torch of the forces of light and freedom and he is burning inside me more than ever. Today I’m going to the torch race and I do not intend to do it alone. I appeal to all the people who hear me now whether it’s in Israel, Lebanon or anywhere else in the world. My wish today is to prevent you from the pain of standing here, where I stand today, looking into this closet knowing that the remnants of the most precious person are in it, remnants of dreams that have been shattered prematurely. but I can not! Why? Because only you can! Everyone can, and should, and is responsible for the freedom of all of us and the generations to come. In Israel, in Lebanon, in Iraq, and in every corner where darkness reigns and freedom does not exist. We can do. Not only can we, we are the only ones who can really. Tell me? Is there anything more important than life? It’s time to understand that human life is worth more than money, religion or territory! We need one thing now: to ourselves! Wherever we are! The torch I carry is heavy and the track is long. Take this torch with me today and join me. Today I began to form a global coalition that will work for freedom all over the world. For this purpose, a special website was opened at www.freefreedom.org. Sign in today and sign up and forward the message to everyone. No matter where you are, take this torch with me and join the race to fulfill the last wish of my brother Nimrod and all those brave people who were victims of the War of Freedom. Their only wish was … that they would be the last victims of the war. “Many articles were published in the print and electronic media covering the fighting in Lebanon and highlighted the character of Nimrod One of the most moving articles was published in the local newspaper Kol Ha’kfar, Fingers from Lebanon “met Nimrod with his company medic, Nir Bar Natan, through whom he had only crossed for two hours with Nimrod, but left a tremendous impression on him:” A week ago, on Wednesday afternoon, he told me a few days later, The morning coffee, Nir, whom we called “Bernie”, took a 48-hour vacation at home. He took the road from the area where we were stationed and tried to hitchhike. Two reservists stopped him, they served in the Armored Corps. One of them had a daughter and the other, who brought his car to the base, took the new father to meet his daughter for the first time. They drove to the center of the country and brought down his friend, the driver’s driver, in the hospital. They wished him good luck and he ran to meet his wife and baby daughter. Later on, Bernie and the driver developed a lively conversation. The driver gave Bernie his business card at Microsoft, where he works, and Bernie showed the soldier the photos he took during the last week of fighting, photosFrom the guns of our company. A momentary intimacy developed between two soldiers sharing the same war, two Israelis returning home from the battlefield where they fought for a common cause. Their ways separated when Bernie got out of the tanker’s car and caught the first bus to Jerusalem. The driver received a permit to stay that night at his home and returned to his wife and two children in Ramat Gan. … On Friday morning Bernie returned to our embankment at the border, refreshed, smelled the house a bit, and sucked in new forces. After he had organized himself, he opened the newspaper and his eyes instinctively skipped this time to the place where the pictures and names of those killed from the previous day’s battles were found daily. On Wednesday there were bitter battles – 13 soldiers were killed, nine of them in the village of Badal in the western sector. My battery fired almost nonstop that day. Three helicopters passed over us into Lebanon, and then they returned to Israel, in the direction of the hospitals, crowded with dozens of wounded. The newspaper of that Friday was filled with small pictures of the dead, an entire headline page in Yedioth Ahronoth. The medic’s eyes suddenly locked on a familiar face – Sergeant Nimrod Segev, 28, was written next to them, the face of the reservist soldier who took him home, whose life had been tied for two hours last Wednesday, and he still remembered his smile. In the pocket of his uniform Segev died in Wednesday morning’s battles when an anti-tank missile struck his tank in southern Lebanon. “At that moment,” Bernie told me before sipping his black coffee, “I just did not know what to do, I did not know where to bury myself, I was just in shock. I felt chest pressure near my heart, I wanted to cry. I choked. ‘ On the same day, Microsoft bought the central place on the last page of the paper, the same page full of obituaries, most recently of the fallen soldiers. Nimrod’s ad was the largest. Nimrod’s great love for Rosh Pina and Teva led his family to commemorate the establishment of Mitzpe Nimrod – a memorial park, an observation point for the views of the Galilee and the Golan, and a starting point for trips – Rosh Pina, his parents said: “Nimrod was a fourth generation in the moshava, loved the moshavah and was connected to it in all its forms. When he came to visit on weekends, with his wife – his beloved Iris and his son Omar – and the stream flowed through the settlement, a few meters from the house – he stopped his car and looked at the landscape and listened to the water spilling mesmerized. He would travel the short way home at less than one kilometer an hour to breathe slowly and thoroughly the atmosphere of this place where he had grown up. Nimrod Observatory will preserve the charm of the innocence, the love of man and the love of nature that were in Nimrod, in a pleasant design, calm, with a magnificent view and flowing water that will contribute to the sense of the dynamics of the continuing life. ” microsoft.co.il/blogs/RememberNimrod Two computer classes were set up in memory of Nimrod at the Agamim and Razim schools in Safed, which were damaged during the Second Lebanon War. “- the song” You Are a Man “was written by Nimrod when he was 16 years old after the sudden death of his friend Dotan. The song was performed by the singer Shimon Buskila. “You are a person who died recently / Walk around in silence, Waiting for everyone / I do not know what happened / And how it happened so fast // You are a pure stream and I am here alone / Looking at the sky, Do not see anyone / You’ll understand in life // so maybe you’ll give me a smile / big eyes and a spilled look / the kind you can not see anymoreI’m so waiting for this / I do not want to believe that this is / You are not alone in this world / Totally free – and thanks for it // So maybe you are sad now / Maybe a little later / And maybe a little alone now / Who love you / with a little patience we will be with you / tell God to take care of you / me personally – let you go. “