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Galit Henn 1 September 1985 - 13 December 1997

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galit

GALIT

Galit Henn was born in Israel on 1 September 1985, the fifth and youngest child of Judy and Nehemia Henn. As she was always surrounded by love, she grew up happy, with a smile of contentment on her lovely face. She walked and talked early, and by age two was ordering around her nursery school teachers and companions. She loved dolls and drawing, and when she learned to read, became quite a bookworm; her card at the community library shows she read three to four books a week. She took piano lessons for 1 ½ years, and for her final 2 ½ years played the violin. She had a clear soprano voice.

     One of Galit’s outstanding characteristics was her empathy for the needy; whether it was a fellow pupil who had fallen down, a new immigrant child from Russia who couldn’t speak Hebrew, or a lonely, elderly widower – Galit was there to comfort. A number of girls referred to Galit as their best friend, because she gave each one the feeling of being special. More than twenty elderly people from our cooperative community (kibbutz) came forward after Galit’s death to tell us how she carried packages for them, helped weed their gardens, or just came for a cup of tea – we never knew of these good deeds.

     Galit was an outstanding pupil. From age nine she attended an enrichment program for gifted children one day a week. There she made new friends from different religious and socio-economic backgrounds, and learned diverse subjects such as archeology, ecology, and socio-drama. The sculpture which she began was completed by her friends and is now hanging on the entrance wall of the school for the gifted with a plaque in her memory.

     Galit was family oriented; she could be counted on at family gatherings to organize her younger cousins for a game of hide and seek, or a nature walk. She was extremely devoted to her American grandmother Sara, and her late Israeli great-grandmother Hanna. Her five girl cousins who ranged around her in age were especially close to her. Her two older sisters, Hila (13 years her senior) and Matat (10 years her senior), delighted in her quick wit and joined her in singing songs at holidays. Her oldest brother Amram (8 years her senior), was impressed by her intensity of conviction. Her brother El’ad (4 years her senior) was, in many ways, her kindred spirit; they shared a love of books, music, computers, art, and conversation.

     All this beauty and talent was brutally cut short by a tragic automobile accident on 13 December 1997, in which Galit and her paternal aunt, Rachel Henn Prat, were killed, on their way to Rachel’s home at Kibbutz Mahanaim in the Galillee. Rachel is survived by her husband, Uri, two sons, Yiftach and Yosef, and a daughter, Esther.

     Galit was 12 years and 3 months old at her death. This notebook is her legacy to us. We found it hidden under her mattress the morning after the accident. May we be worthy of her legacy.

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poems

POEMS

Darkness

What a power failure

Like a clogged drain

Nothing leaves

Nothing enters

Darkness !!!

Darkness !!!

No light.

"

On this day I begin this diary without knowing why. (Perhaps it seems to me that it will be nice to open it when I’m 16 to see how clogged up I was then.) Well, it doesn’t matter, the crux of the matter is that I hope to be diligent in writing in it. I’ll attempt to write each day, but I’m not sure I’ll succeed.

     Well, today I’ll just tell about myself.

     I’m Galit, 11 years old and a month, 5 feet tall [155 centimeters] and a bit and weigh (about) ## (Secret information), black hair ( now burnt almost blonde by the sun), black-brown eyes and shoe size #9 [41].

     I have a beauty mark in the middle of my face. I have many girlfriends and I wonder which is the best; they are Liron (from Merchavia), Inbal, Yael V. and Racheli (Levy-from Beit Shean). I want to be an architect (house design). Today I’m going to Esther Prat to some kind of song contest. Maybe I’ll sleep there; in any case I’ll take the diary. I decided I won’t be like other girls who write to their diary asking its advice, because that’s ridiculous, and I won’t treat it like a real person.

"

works

WORKS

others

OTHERS

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Without you

My breasts would have remained empty

My lips

Pursed, waiting

For a touch that never arrived.

The gentleness within me

Would never burst free

With such force

And every exciting moment

Of a chick on the sidewalk

Would pass me by

And never affect me.

Mandarin juice would not

Stain my white slacks

And they’d remain

Spotless.

Without you

The poem we call your life

Would not furl out to me

Like a country so well known

Yet so strange.

Without you

My heart would swell with joy

Always.

And now too.

But you were born

Suckled

Crawled

Walked

Talked

Drew

Read

Wrote

And loved!

How much you loved!

Only

One who never

Gave life

Would be able

To say

That without you

I would be

More perfect.

Mom

photos

PHOTO ALBUM

 
film

FILM

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