The final hours of Netanel Shakron, z"l, were spent alongside his son Yoav as they prepared for Yom Kippur. The two went together to a spring near Neve Tzuf to immerse in preparation for the holy day - a father-and-son tradition that, within minutes, became their final memory together.
“We arrived at the spring on Erev Yom Kippur to immerse," Yoav recalls in an interview with Israel National News. “Dad immersed first, and I went in after him. We had all kinds of intentions that we focused on during the immersions."
When they finished, the two walked up the short path back to the parking area. They were alone. Netanel got into the back seat of the car to dry off and prepare for the drive, while Yoav sat in the front. Then came the cry that changed everything.
“I heard Dad yell to me, ‘Yoav, it’s a terrorist attack,’ or ‘Yoav, there’s a terrorist.’ I don’t remember exactly what he shouted," Yoav says. According to him, his father spotted the terrorist before he did.
When Yoav turned around, he saw the armed terrorist approaching his father. Within seconds, he moved into the driver’s seat, opened the door and began running across the road.
“I turn my head and see the terrorist behind me," he recalls. “I run, cross the road and see a pit on the other side. I thought about getting into it, but I saw that he was right behind me and told myself that if I got into the pit, I’d have nowhere to escape."
Yoav continued into the brush, trying to find a place to hide. Even from there, he could see the terrorist moving toward him.
“I don’t know if he saw me. I was in the brush and he was in the open area."
At that point, Yoav began shouting warnings: “Terrorist, terror attack." Shortly afterward, a tracker arrived in a white Jeep, fired into the air and then at the terrorist, who fled the scene.
Only then did Yoav dare return to the car. As he made his way back to his father, he still hoped to hear a response.
“I cross the road back toward the car and keep shouting to him, ‘Dad, Dad, can you hear me? Dad, can you hear me?’"
But Netanel did not answer. Before even opening the car door, Yoav noticed the shattered window and saw that his father was unresponsive. As he approached, he realized the magnitude of the tragedy. Others who had been at the spring earlier came up after the terrorist fled and joined him.
Within just a few hours, Yoav went from running for his life to experiencing his first Yom Kippur without his father. He says that this year, the words and themes of the holy day took on an entirely different meaning.
“Yom Kippur was very difficult," he says. “You really understand what the Day of Judgment means." Thinking about the year that had passed and what had been decreed during it made the meaning of the day tangible and painful in a way he had never experienced before.
But it is the last conversation he had with his father on the way to the spring that has taken on an especially chilling significance.
Yoav asked his father why the Vidui confession is recited already during the afternoon Mincha prayer on Erev Yom Kippur. Netanel explained that the Sages instituted the confession before the final meal, among other reasons out of concern that a person might not have an opportunity to confess later.
Hours later, Yoav was left with that conversation as his final memory of his father.
“Dad didn’t even have time to say Vidui," he says in pain. “He didn’t have time to get to Mincha. It’s sad."
But there was one thing he did have time to do: immerse in the spring with his son ahead of Yom Kippur.
Their outing to the spring was part of a deep bond between the father and his eldest son. Yoav describes a father who was present in every aspect of his life - in his studies, on trips and in the small moments of everyday life. The family traveled extensively throughout Israel, and father and son sometimes went on trips alone. They had visited the spring where the attack took place before.
Even minutes before the attack, the two were talking about the water in the spring.
“We talked about what a good spring it was, how good the water was and how much fun it was," Yoav recalls. “Dad really loved traveling. He helped me with everything, including my studies. Wherever I needed him, with anything, he helped me. He really was a very supportive father."
At the beginning of the shiva mourning period, Yoav is still struggling to comprehend that the father who was always there will never return.
“It’s very difficult to process and understand that that’s it, it’s over. I still don’t fully understand it."
And amid his harrowing account of the attack, Yoav asks that this not be the memory people retain of his father. Instead, he wants people to remember something entirely different - his smile.
“Dad was always smiling and made sure that others smiled too," he says. “I want people who hear our story to continue in his way and smile a lot."