The murder of the late Amir Simhon in cold blood by a terrorist on the promenade, in Tel Aviv in 2003, shocked the whole country. All my brothers and sisters have a warm and close relationship, but with Amir it was something very special and unusual.
He was like another father in the house, a big brother in every sense of the word.
He and my mother had a very special relationship, I no longer encountered a powerful relationship like they had. "
Amir was born in 1979 to Moshe and Herzliya, and grew up in Bat Yam.
Shani says that he volunteered for the Israel Police even before his military service, because it was very important to him to contribute as much as possible to the state.
"He enlisted in the Border Police and served as a soldier in the Jerusalem sector, and even during the service he found time to volunteer with the police. After he was released, he returned to the police and began working as an inspector in Tel Aviv. He saw himself continuing with the police.
Like a tear in the heart.
The late Amir Simhon,
In July 2003, at the height of the second intifada, Amir was stabbed by a terrorist while sitting with his friend on a bench on the boardwalk.
Shani: "That evening Amir's weapon was not on him. The terrorist hid all day in a mosque in Jaffa - by the way, this is the same mosque where the terrorist hid from the last attack in Tel Aviv, in the Ilka bar. That is why he was instructed to go out and stab every Jew he sees on the street. "
"They took our child"
"It was the big holiday, in the summer. My mother and I were with Amir at my aunt's in Tel Aviv, in the early evening. Amir told us that he was going out with a friend to spend time on the promenade, and asked his mother, who would call him every evening "And after she left for the promenade, Shani and her mother returned to the pavilion, for another completely normal evening - until that bitter moment."
"Late at night, around 2:00, the phone at home rang," she recalls, "at first we thought we were calling from my dad's workplace, and we did not answer, but the phone kept ringing. Eventually, my mom answered, and across the line asked Dad. At first they did not tell him it was a terrorist attack, they were afraid to tell him such a thing on the phone.
Amir with Shani and little brother Lior, Photo: Amir with Shani and little brother Lior
"They asked him to come to the hospital urgently, they explained that Amir had an accident with the vehicle. On the way there my father turned on the news on the radio and heard that there was a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv, but he did not call. "Even before us he was murdered and they came to the hospital, but when my father came they hid to give him the opportunity and the honor to hear it officially."
Shani and her family were at their home at the time, consumed with worry, with no information beyond what was provided on the phone.
"All this time I tried to call Amir, but there was no answer. We did not even turn on the TV, we did not hear that there was a terrorist attack," says Shani, "We were sure it was a car accident, as we were told. "We did not understand what it was about. I went downstairs to try to understand, but I came across my sister's husband on the way. I asked him, and he just said, 'Go upstairs, Daddy will be back soon.'" "This is a picture I will never forget - Dad looked the mother in the eye and said, 'A terrorist took our child.'
All I remember from that moment is that I fainted.
When we woke up in the morning after that night, the reality was already completely different. "
Souvenir sounds
Bereavement is no stranger to the Simhon family.
Kobi, nephew of Father Moshe, was killed in a massacre in Dizengoff Center in 1996. He was only 13 years old at the time of his death.
"We did not believe that such a tragedy could strike our family twice," admits Shani. My mother took it very seriously, and our house has not been the same since.
"Today I no longer judge her, but when I was a young girl it was very difficult for me. I just wanted my mother." One day it was all over.
The clock stopped at my parents' house.
My father of course continued to work, to support the house and the children, but mother resigned from her job.
My older sister Keren, who was 25 at the time, raised us, the little brothers, with my father.
From then until today she serves as our mother figure, instead of the mother we lost when my brother was murdered.
And when I say we're lost, I mean it.
She is alive, but not really. "
Shani, who has been carrying the trauma of the attack since that day, says that the recent attacks brought her back, to that difficult time.
"The attack in Bnei Brak, in which the late policeman Amir Khoury was killed, brought me back at once to the day our Amir was killed.
The resemblance between the two was very great.
Both policemen, the salt of the earth and country lovers, who constantly wanted to contribute and protect.
"To this day, every bereaved brother shown on the news feels to me like a family, like part of the story of us all. Amir was really good, so many people loved him. The fact that more than 1,000 people came to the funeral shows how significant he was to them."
One of Amir's great loves was music.
He really liked to sing, and before the attack he managed to record a few songs in his friend's studio.
"In retrospect, this album became his memory, so that we could hear his voice a little longer, and maybe in a certain place also keep his memory in his head," says Shani. I wish he had not taken that damn day. I wish he had taken it, maybe things would have looked different and he would not have lost his life. "On the same boardwalk."
"I wish he had taken the gun."
The memorial cabinet in Amir's home,
Anxieties have become part of the routine
Shani painfully recounts that her older sister would always say that one of the reasons all the brothers love Amir so much and are especially attached to him, was probably "because God knew he would be taken from us first. It's a sentence that has accompanied me ever since in every step of my life. We were best friends. , Life goes on and I am full of joy of life, I have children and family, but there is something I carry within me, which is mine.
"It's my private bereavement that no person who has not been through a similar incident will understand. It is important for me to emphasize - this terrorist murdered not only Amir. He also murdered my family, who did not return to being the same after that difficult incident. True, Amir went, but The family that was left behind here also died. "
Aside from the ongoing sadness, Shani recounts her personal coping with the trauma left behind by that fateful evening.
"I myself have become a much more anxious person. I am afraid of losing people who are very close to me. I have anxiety about being in crowded places or going out alone at night. In recent attacks I went to a shopping center to do holiday shopping. When I was there, my mouth dried out of fear. I started. Think, 'What if someone suddenly starts firing?'
"When I go, I keep looking back because Amir was stabbed when he was with his back to the terrorist. All sorts of things like that that have accompanied me ever since, and will probably accompany me for the rest of my life."
The terrorist who murdered Amir was released in 2011, as part of the deal to bring back Gilad Shalit, and for Shani it was a joy accompanied by a lot of sadness: "On the one hand, I am very happy that Gilad returned home "While Amir will never get it again."
Shani decided to commemorate her brother in a very personal and touching way.
"On one of the memorial evenings a few years ago, I decided to tattoo his name on my back and next to it a star, as Amir was and will always be a star for me. My brothers also decided to tattoo his name, each in a place that felt right and special to him.
"I chose to tattoo Amir's name on my back, because that's how I feel he is always behind me and watching over me. It is said that time heals pain, but it is not true, it is not. Time only teaches us to live with pain and loss."
On the question of the proximity of Independence Day to Remembrance Day, a question every bereaved family member is asked at some point in his life, Shani answers: "This sharp transition is very difficult. It's like a heart tear you have to stop, tie and reopen after. Just like that."
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