Following the death of Sivan Sadeh, 18, from Hezbollah rocket shrapnel on Wednesday, his father, Asaf, mourned him in conversation with Walla.
“I spoke with him at 5:56 p.m., six minutes before the sirens started at 6:02 p.m.,” his father said. “We were in Haifa’s bayside suburbs for passport renewals ahead of a family ski trip planned before his enlistment in February.”
“We had already renewed his passport. I called him to ask if he wanted me to bring him something to eat. He managed to say ‘yes,’ and then the sirens started where we were sitting as well. We went to a shelter, came back to eat, and returned to the kibbutz around 7:00 p.m.,” Sadeh said.
“Sivan wasn’t home, so I called him to let him know I brought what he asked for, but he didn’t answer, and the phone made a sound as if it was off,” he said.
“We tried calling from his girlfriend’s mother’s phone, but he didn’t answer that either. At that point, I saw a post saying a body had been found, and I already felt it wasn’t good. I took the car and drove out to the fields, and there I saw the Magen David Adom ambulances and the police,” the bereaved father said.
“I saw our friend who managed the field crops, and I told him, ‘Tell me the truth – I know it’s him – and that was it. That’s when I knew it was him. We identified him by the earring in his ear,” Sadeh said.
Sadeh was found lifeless in his car in an agricultural field near Kfar Masaryk in Western Galilee by a foreign worker passing by. It appears he was struck while trying to take cover during the barrages launched earlier in the day from Lebanon toward the area.
A hardworking, humble young man
“He was a hardworking kid who worked and did things his own way,” he said of his son.
“He was the most special, the most beautiful – anyone can see that in the photos – but he never bragged about it.
“He was a humble kid with so many friends, and his friends were the most important things to him. He pushed the limits to go far, and when he faced difficulties, he knew how to handle them – in his own way. Alone.”
“School, for example, was really tough for him, but he decided he was going to get his diploma, so he did. He had a [military] profile score of 97, and it was clear to him that he was going into a combat unit. That’s just how it is with us – we enlist,” his father said.
“He was supposed to join in four months, aiming for the paratroopers. He didn’t do any special preparations. He had a natural fitness. We told him to push himself, to prepare, but, as usual, he went his own way and felt that work was enough.”
“He was a wonderful teenager with many friends,” Eyal Reiss, a member of Kibbutz Kfar Masaryk and deputy head of the Mateh Asher Regional Council who knew him well, told Walla.
“He was in the same group as my son, many of whom are the young people he worked with and who gather every evening at our place after work in their hangout spot. Unfortunately, part of their daily conversations recently has been about the experiences they’ve had to deal with, like how many and what kinds of rocket fragments they’ve found in the fields,” Reiss said.
“He was very proud of his work, one of the leading boys among his peers. I remember him clearly, proudly raising the flagpole during the Independence Day torch ceremonies.
“The family name isn’t random – Sivan Sadeh grew up in a rooted family; he’s a fourth-generation member of the kibbutz. His grandfather, Shaul Sadeh, was responsible for the water supply, and Sivan absorbed his love for the land and crop farming from him,” Reiss said.
He added that the family has been connected to working the land for years and continued even in this past year. “The field [Ed. - sadeh in Hebrew] is deeply ingrained in the family, and sadly, the horrific outcome is that Sivan is no longer with us.
“There’s not a day when we aren’t exposed to sirens, interceptions, and rocket impacts,” Reiss noted, stating, “This was Sivan’s daily reality, as he got up every morning with diligence and perseverance to work in the fields.”
Sadeh’s funeral was set to take place at 11:00 a.m. on Friday at the cemetery in the fields of Kfar Masaryk.
He leaves behind his parents, Racheli and Asaf, and his siblings, Ido, a 10th-grade student, and Yoav, a 6th-grade student.
“Our hearts are broken,” his mother Racheli wrote Thursday morning in a brief Facebook post.