Do not weep over my grave I am not there I am not asleep I am a thousand winds blowing I am a diamond of morning’s dew on a wet leaf I am sunshine’s ray on a field of wheat, golden and ripe. I am a quiet soft rain on an autumn day When you wake up on a grey morning I am the rustle of dancing leaves. I am a bird hovering above, silent I am the shimmering star at night Do not weep over my grave, smile my friends I am not there I have not died my dears Four weeks have passed since that warm Friday, a day in which we have lost a friend, a brother, a smiling angel. Every time I was at your home over the last month the air was full of the feeling that something awful had happened but the fact that we will never see you again has not sunk in. Your images are still running in my head. There you are a sweet boy in primary school. Watching Zeev starring in football games, on breaks. Together with us walking Dizraeli street on the way home from school . Reaching high school and telling us all about your problems with the teachers and of how everyone’s watching you when you practice your juggling. And here we are, all invited for your eighteenth birthday, enjoying and partying with you on an evening we shall never forget. And you are in the army now, sharing experiences with us from basic training. And me lying in bed in Mexico while you talk to Zeev who is next to me, telling him all about your trip to Budapest with Roi and Dikla . And there it is, the terrible phone call on Friday morning, and I am standing next to Zeev and I can find no words and cant believe that only two weeks before we were with you on the balcony, happy. It was , so it seemed, your farewell performance. If only we would have known… In the course of the Shiva, we sat in your home from the early hours in the morning until very late at night. Crying, remembering you, laughing, being reminded of you. All the promises we made at your grave, were kept or will be kept. When we were young, they said that bad things don’t happen to good people. Its four weeks now, that we don’t believe that anymore. Uri Greenberger.