Eulogy by Yoni Peres
So much has already been said and written about this giant of a man – Shimon Peres, statesman, intellectual and visionary. Words cannot adequately describe what he did for the State of Israel, the Jewish people and humanity.
However, today I would like to bid farewell to my father.
I was born and raised in a reality quite different from today.
Israel was a tiny, young country faced with formidable challenges.
That is why father decided to dedicate his life to the country and its people. My sister, my brother and I were raised with great devotion by our beloved mother, Sonia, of blessed memory.
As a child, I was privileged to observe and listen in amazement to his conversations with writers, poets, artists and intellectuals. Despite the many hurdles and difficulties along the way, he persevered and achieved great things.
Father considered himself shy, even though he was always under the spotlight. I must have inherited that trait from him. We had a deep and special bond. Despite his many absences, he always took a loving interest in us, even from great distances. He helped me through hard times, and I tried to be at his side too in difficult times, to help him even though he had enormous reserves of inner strength.
My father was very sensitive and caring towards all people. He wasn’t ruled by his ego, he treated everyone as an equal and was always attentive, interested and supportive.
He loved his family dearly, and with all the new members that joined us.
In recent years, he basked in the love of millions in Israel and the world. What a sight it was to see.
When asked what he would like to have inscribed on his tombstone after death, he said, without hesitation, “He was too young to die.” Indeed, my dear father, this is how I feel – you left us prematurely. There is so much more you could have done.
I bid you farewell with love and longing. May you rest in peace.
Eulogy by Prof. Tzvika Walden
My father had a long and good life.
Today, I bid farewell to two people:
Peres – Shimon, his Excellency, that is Mr. President.
And I say goodbye to the man my mother called Buzhik, and I called father, grandfather and great-grandfather.
The first was Peres of the state, of the people, the citizen of the world. Others will eulogize that Peres. I will share a few private moments.
The world will remember the determined Peres who never stopped, who kept running despite the obstacles, and despite the falls along the way. I will remember him during this past year at Friday-night dinners at our home, when he was the first to rise for Kiddush, holding the booklet with the Shabbat songs printed in tiny letters, trying to make out the words of the songs through his thick lenses, never skipping a word, singing at the top of his lungs.
He was described as a great negotiator, as someone who always found a way to get what he wanted. To me he was a young man who used his creative skills to get us to eat. Who cut sandwiches into triangles and diamonds. Try this. It’s a Burmese sandwich. My father pulled out all the creative stops, and used every trick of the trade to tempt us to open our mouths and eat and grow.
In the eyes of the public he will be remembered as one who dined with kings.
I remember him at the table of a French restaurant, when he whispered in my ear, it’s tastes good, but nothing compares to your mother’s salad. To him, Israel’s cucumbers and tomatoes were the finest of delicacies.
There were those who considered him an adventurer, someone who rushed to adopt every innovation.
But when I got married and decided to take the name Valden, it took him almost a year to come to terms with the idea. Whenever I came home, he would announce: Sonia, look who’s here, Mrs. Valden,” as pleased as punch.
He will be remembered as an elegant, well-dressed man, always well groomed, who would take a small comb from his pocket to smooth his hair. At home when we were arranging books on the shelves, and he was dressed only in khaki shorts and an undershirt, a knock was heard at the door. It’s okay, I said, it’s Rafi, but he being the complete gentleman that he was, hurried to the bedroom to put on a shirt.
Much has been said about his forbearance and infinite patience. He measured long and short on a timeline of two thousand years of history when weighing the state of the nation, but in nanoseconds when waiting for a text to be printed. He was ready with his new corrections even before the ink was dry. A day after lending me a book, he was astonished to learn that I had not yet finished reading it.
My father had a long and good life.
And all those years he was a man in love:
In love with Sonia – We were just about to dedicate Sonia House – a wellness center for the children of the Ben Shemen Youth Village, where they first met and fell in love.
Mother believed that every injustice in the world could be corrected and was always there to listen, support and help.
Father admired this trait in her.
My father had a long and good life.
And all those years he was a man in love:
In love with his family, with the people of Israel, with the State of Israel,
A man who loved life in the present and was in love with the promise of the future.
My father, you were a lover of life, who sprung like a lion at daybreak to fulfill his mission.
For so long, I tried to catch up with you.
But now, heed my loving words, you have earned a well-deserved rest.
Eulogy by Chemi Peres
Farewell words to my dear father
We believe our father would have wanted us to say a few words in English to all of you who traveled from across the world to join us at this devastating moment, as we say goodbye and pay tribute to a special man who we all loved dearly.
He would have wanted us to thank you all for your friendship to him and to our people.
We believe that if he could he would have used this opportunity to remind us all that the role of leaders today is to serve their people and that there is no greater responsibility and no greater privilege than that.
He saw in all of you leaders, friends and partners in his quest for peace. We will treasure his memory and honor his legacy. And on a personal note let we switch to Hebrew
My dear beloved Father,
Today I am accompanying you on your last journey, to your eternal rest, in the National Cemetery on Mount Herzl, named for the visionary of the State.
In one of your many books, you accompanied Herzl on a wonderful imaginary journey to a new land. You were privileged to be one of Israel’s founding fathers. As indeed you were, your entire life. A visionary, a pioneer, a doer, who made his dreams come true.
You kept your promise to your beloved grandfather, when you bid him farewell on your first stop on the way to the Land of Israel.
You never forgot what it means to a Jew. And I promise you that neither will I. No one can continue to pave your path instead of you, but many follow in your footsteps, each according to their own way and conviction. And I am one of them, as best I can.
I had the great privilege to be one of your three children, and the father of three of your grandchildren: Nadav, Guy and Yael. We are the children and grandchildren of your and the love of your life, our dear beloved mother, Sonia.
Your parting words to her when she left us are engraved on our hearts: “I fell in love with you on the first day we met, I’ll love you till my last day on earth.” Your love was the first and greatest gift you gave me, my wife Gila and our three children. I have carried the love you both instilled in me from the day I was born, as will my wife and children, forever.
In the last ten years of your life, as President of the State of Israel and President of the Peres Center for Peace, our family grew closer than ever. Our oldest son Nadav made sure that we made the most of every minute with you. He patiently taught you that the news can be recorded, so that we could spend more time together. We were so happy that you got to know and love his girlfriend Noam, who is from Ben Shemen, with whom you shared your love of books and your curiosity about the study of the brain.
You took special interest in Guy’s studies. He so resembles you in appearance and in his kind heart. So often, we saw the two of you deep in conversation about interests that only you two shared.
You beamed with joy when you gazed at our youngest daughter Yael, whom you lovingly called Yali. You loved to sing to her and took a passionate interest in her plans for the future.
I cherished the special relationship forged with Gila, who loved and cared for you so. We loved our Friday night meals, the weekends and holidays we spent together in our house overlooking Lake Kinneret, home to poets Rachel and Naomi Shemer, so close to Kibbutz Alumot, which you helped to found.
We will remember you wherever we go and in whatever we do. We will remember you in words, and in books. We will remember you in poems and songs. And in the pathways of the country that you helped build, and in the magnificent undertakings you established.
Whenever we see your friends and loved ones, we will see your face reflected, as in the many people in Israel and the world for whom you were a leader, mentor and inspiration. You were a role model, a loyal son to your people and your country, and you strove with unparalleled determination for security and peace.
You never spared your energy, and it never waned. You made the most of every moment in your life, up to very the end. We will remember you as one whose greatness stemmed from a deep passion to serve a great cause, and not out of a desire for power. You leave behind a monumental and lasting legacy. I will never forget what I learned from you. The older I grew, the closer we became. And the closer I got, the more I saw your greatness. You were a giant.
In the last ten years of your life you were surrounded by boundless love, like never before. If only you could now see for a fleeting moment the pure love for you here, at this your last stop. How moved you would be, and thankful to all those who came from near and far. You always preferred the possibilities offered by the imagination to clinging to memories of the past. The legacy you leave to us is the world of tomorrow.
I told you that I loved you. But I never knew how much. Only the pain of loss and sorrow of separation that surround us all here together have helped me understand.
Farewell my teacher and mentor. Farewell beloved father and grandfather. We will travel the path of light you left us.
