David, my older brother, Six years separated us, and we were never really close until that summer of ’71, which we spent together in Israel. You were already here, I’d come to visit you and see Israel, and I stayed at your small apartment in Tel-Aviv. I went sightseeing, you trained, and we spent the rest of the time together. What I especially remember is our bike ride to the Wingate Institute, because you wanted to show me the facilities. We actually hadn’t known each other as grown-ups until that visit. I was 12 when you left for college, then you got married and moved to New York, and when you were 26 you immigrated to Israel. You were a quiet man, introverted and extraordinarily brilliant. You got straight As without even trying, casually, and you graduated in the top percentile of your class at Columbia Law School. At the same time you got a degree in business management, all while maintaining a full training routine. You started lifting weights at 13, and hadn’t stopped since. You were relatively short for your age, which kept you from certain branches of sports. But on the other hand, you were very muscular. One day Dad took you to try weightlifting, and you were addicted. Since then you were totally focused on one goal, getting to the Olympics. It became your dream, and you were so committed to it. Before anyone had even heard of protein shakes, you maintained a special and strict diet while training. You’d prepare special shakes for yourself, eat raw eggs and train non-stop. It wasn’t just at the gym, but in our parents’ basement too, as indicated by the chunks of concrete you ripped from the floor to serve as weights. We’d hear the noise all the way upstairs when you slammed them on the ground. We had a happy and stable family life. Dad was a doctor, Mom was a housewife, and they were both very involved in our lives. Dad made sure to come home from work every day at 5:30 PM so we could all have dinner together, and in the summer we’d go to our grandparents’ house on the edge of the lake every Sunday, and enjoy our family time. Dad would take you to competitions, and you kept improving and developing in your branch. At Columbia University you won titles and were crowned the all-college champion, until your dream of competing in the Olympic Games started to seem realistic. I can’t say for sure, but I think part of your consideration to move to Israel stemmed from the thought that it would be easier for you to get to the Olympics from there. You were so sharp that you’d learned Hebrew in six months. You kept working hard, and then came the news that you’d met the criteria and would be participating in the Olympics. You were so thrilled, and we were so happy for you, that Fred and I decided to come to Munich and be there when your dream came true. Mom and Dad deliberated, but finally decided not to go with us. Fred and I watched you compete, and managed to spend the night of September 4 with you. From there we went on to vacation in Austria, and you stayed with the delegation in Munich. We didn’t know it was the last time we’d see you. We couldn’t imagine what you were about to go through. I was on my way to the shower when I heard on the news, in English, that 11 Israeli athletes had been murdered by terrorists. At that point I had no idea if you were among them, and the woman running the place wouldn’t let me use her phone to try and call and figure things out. Since we were Americans, she didn’t believe I had anything to do with it, so Fred and I drove to a public payphone and we called the American Embassy in Austria. That was how we learned of your death. I was shocked, numb. I just couldn’t grasp that you were gone. My brain refused to believe it, and my body went on auto-pilot. Fred and I immediately started arranging our return, and we barely spoke the whole flight. We flew to New York but we missed our connection to Cleveland, Ohio, where my parents lived. Believe it or not, David, President Richard Nixon intervened and sent one of his planes to fly us to Ohio. We had such a long way to process that we’d been three siblings, and now we were two. In the meantime our parents were eagerly awaiting us, and I can only imagine what was going through their minds during those hours. One son of theirs never returned, and the other two were delayed because they had no way of getting home. When we arrived, I saw their pain, but also their relief. You were a pacifist, like both our parents, and to their credit it must be said that they never sought revenge. From the first moment they insisted on only commemorating you in a positive way, they created scholarships in your name at Columbia University and at the high school you’d gone to, and they did wonderful and charitable things in your memory. Mom lived to the age of 90, and Dad passed away at 97. They lived full lives, and though the tragedy was always present, they tried to make the best of this life. I have two children. The eldest is 42, and is named David after you. He’s married with two daughters and is surprisingly similar to you, from his looks to his intelligence. Sometimes the resemblance haunts me. I also have a daughter named Dalit, 39. Despite their age, they have relatively young children, and my eldest grandson is only seven. I tell you this so you understand why they don’t know much about you, just that you were an athlete and that you were murdered. But they’ll know, David. They’ll know. For a brief time I worked in law, but I made my career independently, in a landscape architecture business. I’m 72, retired, passing my time riding my bike, swimming and taking trips. I told Fred about the letter, and he asked to let you know that your death saddened him greatly. The fact that you only lived for 28 years, and lived them with such joy in everything you did made him appreciate every day of his life, and he used it to try and do things that would make you proud of him. Your little brother misses you. David, the last time we met you were 28, young, vital, in your prime, with gorgeous black hair, and I was 22, a young woman in fine shape with long brown hair. When I think of you now, you’ve stayed the same young man, while I’m a 72-year-old white-haired grandmother. But I’ll tell you one thing. Unlike my friends, I never complained about getting old. How could I? Your life was taken in an instant when you were so young, so every day is a gift for me. Like Fred, your death also taught me to appreciate life, and the lesson I received led me to the conclusion that life must be lived to the fullest, without looking back. I miss you, and regret that my children never had a chance to meet you. They would have loved you so much. And still, you’re in my heart and in theirs forever. Your little sister, Barbara