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"You brought us all together, dear Genia!"

On Tamuz the 27th, it's going to be 30 days since the tragic death of Evgenia Dorfman. The explosion that stole her life, carried away twenty more young lives. And we sort through our frail memory trying to remember every one.

The Torah says that each human being is a world, and when his life goes, that world crashes and becomes no more. Some things that were never important are now. What was so insignificant then

Genia was smiling. She smiled at me from the screen during a dance, she smiled on the school photograph, on the field trip photo and on her birthday, holding a cake filled with candles But in front of my eyes there is an 8-year-old, at a lesson. Her look serious, full of attention and a little strained. That's how I remembered her. And them? How were the other completely ordinary boys and girls who unwillingly took on such a tragic role?

Everybody rememers Genia as a cheerful person, always ready to help - help the sick old man, and the neighbour who just underwent a surgery, and her friends - at any time or circumstances. "When she came back home from school as a 6-year-old, the smaller children ran up to her cheering. It was funny to watch how she, still small, gathered a circle of even smaller children around her".

After the earlier terrorist act which killed two students travelling to school, Genia could not find peace. Her mother tried to calm her.

Genia: "And so they went out and went to an ordinary place - school; - two clean-hearted, innocent boys. They were killed. For what? What, because they are Jewish?! Mom, people die every day! And more, and more"

"I'll serve in the operational combat department", said Genia one day.
"They will give me a weapon! You know how I hate these killers!"

I'm holding Genia's diary in my hands. Near almost every date it says whose birthday comes on the particular date. Sometimes the numbers are coloured with delt pens. Almost all the diary is filled in writing. And on the second-last - an excert from a song:

I am like a bird
Just flying away.
Not knowing where my soul is.
Not knowing where my home is

On the next page there was the last entry - it said in big letters all over the page: "The end of the road"

After Genia's death, many came just to be with her mother in her hard times. Including people who knew this family back in Tashkent. At this time, the main Rabbi of Uzbekistan, David Gurevich and he came to express his sorrow and pray with the rest of the Jews for Genia's soul. "You are like one of us" the people who came told the Rabbi " - We will never forget all the good you did to us back in Tashkent".

Genia, you brought us all closer together. When bad times came, we tried and prayed for you - all of us, shoulder to shoulder, no matter what. Together, as one - in Israel, the United States or the former Union.

How many Shabbat candles we lit for you, how many lips whispered players that were unknown to us before. Only in 18 days of your struggle, you brought much, you brought a lot of life. God judged as he willed. You left us, but the light that you wakened remains.

Thank you.

- Malka Bortnik, a teacher.


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