Gilad and Omri Sharon are eulogizing their father after his burial.
“I had the privilege to be among those who worked for you and with you,” says Omri, who served with his father as a Knesset member, “watching how you learned a new subject, weighed and took decisions, planned.”
He then reads a poem in Sharon’s honor.
Gilad delivers a visibly aching eulogy, first expounding on his father, “the national myth.”
“They said you can’t overcome the terror of the 1950s. They said tanks can’t do flanking maneuvers in the dunes north of Um Katef in 1967. They said you can’t cross the Suez Canal in the Yom Kippur War, until you did and ended the war. They said there is no alternative to new immigrants living in tents [during the mass immigration wave in the 1990s from the former Soviet Union]. They said terror can’t be defeated in the early 2000s. So they said. But you proved otherwise. Doing the impossible is how legends are born, national myths,” he says.
Gilad offers a few defiant words to Sharon’s critics.
“There are more than 100 flourishing towns and villages, in the Golan, Negev, Judea and Samaria. Those who criticize you for removing the settlements of Gaza must know you founded more than 100 settlements, more than anyone else.”
He turns to the crowd: “Look around. The scenery is painfully beautiful. We walked in these scenes for years, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent and thoughtful. You don’t really live in a place until you bury your dead there,” he says, and pauses, choking back tears.
“Saturday afternoon, in the hospital at Tel Hashomer, with [musicians] Arik Einstein and Arik Lavi playing in the background, I sit at your side, holding your hand, caressing your face, my dying father. Then you returned home,” Gilad concludes, and sits.
The sons’ eulogies are followed by the “El Maleh Rachamim” prayer for the dead, and the singing of “Ima Adama,” “Mother Earth,” by singer Miki Gavrielov.