Yosef, my everything.

It is impossible to fathom speaking of Yosef in the past tense.

Even the thought that he has gone on a long journey cannot enter the subconscious. Yosef, the handsome, good looking boy with deep brown eyes and curled leashes, a smile that never left his face even when he was very angry.

Yosef, a child of Eretz Yisrael, loved the land - every rock and every stone, the smell of the wild flowers blossoming every year, the sun shining and in the winter, when he has to dress warmly…well, that was beyond him.

A simple boy, a pleasant boy, a heart of gold, lots of street smarts, an incredible computer freak, popular amongst his peers.

Losing Yosef is like killing the heart. It's stopping putting together the puzzle of life and knowing that the string that ties us together has been brutally ripped away. It is so difficult to think of the month, the week, the night before the horrible murder and try to understand what happened. To my great despair, for many more years, until the day I die, I will continue to entertain the thought that Yosef is still alive in my heart, my tears, my soul.

Yosef was murdered because he was a Jew. He fulfilled the Mitzvah of inhabiting the land of Israel and sanctifies Hashem's name with his death.

May Hashem avenge his death.