Eulogy by grandmother Gill:
Yahel was a bundle of energy, rarely sitting still for long. From riding her bike at breakneck speed around the kibbutz to playing football, singing and dancing to Tik Tok and YouTube with sister, Noiya and, on occasions her British cousins.
Her sense of adventure never dulled as she got older, with sky diving, scuba diving and zip-lining in Thailand. She was a bright student, with a talent for Maths, and had a keen interest in the natural world.
She had a telescope one year so she could look at space and the stars. She loved animals and would pet any that crossed her path, even ants and other insects had her attention. She was funny, mischievous and a joy to be with. We will never know what she could have become - a vet, an entertainer, a naturalist, maybe even the first Israeli woman in space. All we know is that there is a Yahel-shaped hole in our lives that can never be filled for her British family.
Eulogy by Ian Brisley:
Three years.
Three years today, we speak your name.
Three years today, our love the same.
Three years today, though hearts still bleed,
Your roots hold fast in Be'eri's seed.
Three years have passed, though time stands still.
Our broken hearts defy their will.
The world recalls that dreadful date.
Our world was changed by endless hate.
7th October 2023
That date the world now knows too well.
For us, the day our heaven fell.
A day that stole what none can see
Our future, our hope, our family.
Yahel
Adventure danced within your eyes.
You chased excitement beneath blue skies.
You lived each day with fearless grace,
A smile forever on your face.
So fearless, full of youthful flame,
No tomorrows ever looked the same.
Three years today, we speak your name.
Then hatred came in bandana green,
To murder innocents yet unseen.
They burned your home.
They stole your breath.
They wrapped your paradise in smoke and death.
They came with fire.
They came with hate.
They came and sealed my sister's fate.
They came with murder in their eyes,
Beneath October's blood-red skies.
Lianne reached out through Facebook's page:
"Where's the army?" Fear and rage.
Noiya turned to Instagram:
"Help us, please... PLEASE... ANYONE!"
These words escaped beyond the flames.
Their desperate calls were all in vain.
The world would hear their final plea.
Their family heard it far too late.
Too late for hope.
Too late for prayer.
Too late for those that should have been there.
I searched for answers.
I begged for truth.
For something worthy of your youth.
But silence met me every day.
Impossible questions would not fade away.
And so I watched what no brother ever should, To learn the truth where evil stood.
I saw my family where they lay,
Exactly as they fell that day.
Those haunting scenes now live in me,
Etched forever, so painfully.
The truth we sought came at that cost,
Revealing the three that we had lost.
The home you built now swept away.
Ancient olive groves once marked the way.
Yet where they tore your world apart,
An olive tree now guards your heart.
Its roots grow deep in Be'eri's earth,
A living sign of your love and worth.
Though homes may fall, and songs grow still, Your memory climbs each distant hill.
They stole your clarinet that day,
Believing your song would fade away.
But songs are carried, voice to voice,
Where love remembers every choice.
Be'eri wept through every street,
Where empty homes and memories meet.
Over a hundred lives were swept away.
Each empty chair. Each silent room.
Still bears the weight of grief and gloom.
Yet faithful friends still held the line,
Through shattered homes on borrowed time.
The heart of Be'eri never died,
For love refused to step aside.
And slowly hope returns once more,
Through open hearts and every door.
My parents carry a mother's pain,
A father's grief that will remain.
We carry memories oceans wide,
With all the tears we never cried.
Now, when the world recalls that day,
and speaks of terror, of smoke, of flame,
We speak of music, of love, of friends.
We proudly speak each precious name.
Three years today, we speak your name.
Lianne Brisley Sharabi
My beloved sister.
Noiya Sharabi
My beloved niece.
Yahel Sharabi
My beloved niece.
Loved beyond measure,
Missed beyond words,
Remembered forever,
You three, our treasure.
