My dear friend, Major Sagi Golan. Today, I visited your grave, overwhelmed with emotion. This moment crystallizes exactly why I'm building this startup. Every second we live should be guided by our hearts, driven by the fundamental desire to be as happy and meaningful as possible in this world. Each of us in our own way.

So this time, I write in your memory. I invite you to read and find renewed strength and purpose for the journey ahead. That's all for today.

I stood by your grave today, unable to find tears amidst the pain. Your mother is a true hero, just like you. She strengthens everyone when it should be us strengthening her. Looking at her, I instantly understood how she was your mother.

The ceremony began, but the words felt hollow. How can mere language express the depth of emotion and anguish we feel? What words could possibly capture what's in our hearts right now?

I opened our WhatsApp chat, longing to read and remember. I wanted to write to you, to preserve our bond. But the words eluded me.

Reading through our messages from 2014, the last one was a wedding invitation. And here we are, meeting not at your wedding, but at your grave. Your mother arranged the flowers everyone had laid. It felt only right to help her. I picked up the round wreath from Sagi's team.

We took out each bag, each flower. It reminded me so much of you, Sagi how everything was meticulous, creative, and colorful, just like you. A small Israeli flag accidentally caught fire from the candle. I put it out immediately.

This black hole of loss and grief threatens to consume me. Blue and white.

Sagi, it was truly heartwarming, and I thought you might want to rest your nose. I don't know anyone else who wipes their nose in the summer. It just reminded me of you.

How we would wait for the bus in the scorching May heat, going from the commune to the youth center. How you were one of a kind. How tragic it is to realize that you, an exemplary guide and friend, have become a gravestone.

Afterward, I went to your and Omer's house. Wow, what a beautiful home. So warm and full of light. It's clear you built your family unit together.

It pained me to see how much light fills this house, with only you missing. So many people who love you sat on the balcony.

Entering was hard, seeing everyone gathered together, joyful. Like a puzzle, revealing all the people who played a meaningful role in their lives. And then I understood – this is what epitomizes you, Sagi.

The togetherness, the joy, the vibrancy. Everyone here coming together in your optimistic, compassionate way, finding solace even in pain and hardship. Just like in your attentive, smart, and patient service.

Sagi, words fail me. You were such an inspiration and giver. So fundamentally good. To your team. To your friends. To your partner. To your parents. To your siblings. To our world.

I know how good and meaningful you were to the commune. It seems that when things were about to get really bad and difficult, you went to set things right from above. I have no other explanation for your passing at 30.

Sagi, thank you for your legacy. I have no doubt that although you are not with us in body, your spirit remains. Your optimistic spirit, a spirit of giving, love, and helping others. Brave hero who always led in his own way. There are no words to truly describe the courage, splendor, and meaning in the way you lived.

Thank you for allowing me to be part of your life. Thank you for continuing to guide us on the challenging path to make the world a better place. We have no other choice but to fulfill your will.

I still have no tears, just a heavy ache. Perhaps an accumulation of pain from this dark year. So many months of war, of uniforms, so harsh here. I don't know how much lower we can go until we see the light.

Thank you for being so present down here. I'm sure you're already working up there to make things better, to show us your way.