Oren Goldin, 33, was murdered by Hamas terrorists on October 7 in Kibbutz Nir Yitzhak.
He is survived by his wife, Oshrit Masala, and their two-year-old twins, Aviv and Ilay, as well as his parents Adi and Yair and siblings Rani and Shai.
For more than a month, Goldin was considered missing, and he was thought to be held captive in Gaza. Then on November 9, his family was informed that his death had been confirmed.
Goldin, a native of the kibbutz, ran its mechanic shop. An obituary on the Nir Yitzhak website described him as “leaving his mark everywhere he went, with a smile, empathy, sharp thinking, honesty and humor.”
He met Oshrit when she came to the kibbutz with a group of lone soldiers during her army service — and the pair fell in love, and married in 2019.
“My bonbon — my heart hurts and refuses to believe,” wrote Oshrit following the news of his death. “We waited so long for you to come back to us. I don’t know how we can part — how do we go on without you???”
Oren’s parents, Adi and Yair, recalled that he was a big, smiley baby, with big eyes and curious about the world.
“You grew up to be a good friend, a family man, a devoted and wonderful husband to Oshrit and a loving father to Ilay and Aviv,” they wrote.
“You always helped, gave, loved, all with a smile, with all of your heart. You knew how to enjoy life — tasty food, quality meat, cakes.” They noted that Oren was a dedicated member of the kibbutz, “which was a home to you, you were an active member, part of the community, a smiling face which was always nice to meet on the pathways, especially when behind you were two little smiling faces.”
Oren’s brother, Rani Goldin, wrote that it was impossible to think about him in past tense.
“Over the past few days I have gone through our photos and conversations, our final text messages that weren’t particularly deep — about a roasted cauliflower I made for Friday night dinner,” he wrote. “You responded with a smiley licking its lips.”
Their last photo together, wrote Ran, “was from a picnic with our kids and friends from the Thursday right before that Shabbat… you pulled out the coffee machine you got years ago as a gift. I’m so happy that we spent that day together — what a beautiful memory you left us.”
Since October 7, he wrote “I haven’t managed to cry. I don’t feel anything, my brain doesn’t allow my heart to feel. I refuse to believe that this really happened — that we are here and you are no longer.”