Noy and Almog
'I begged him: Almog, get up, don't leave me here alone'
Grieving girlfriend of Almog Shiloni, the soldier stabbed to death in Tel Aviv terror attack, talks about his final days, their future plans, and her shattered dreams.
After burying her boyfriend, Almog Shiloni,
at Mount Herzl in Jerusalem, Noy Hilo hurried to his room at his parents' house in Modi'in and collapsed on his bed. "I cried like I have never cried in my life. The clothes he had worn the day before were still on his bed and I lay on them, smelled them and didn't want to stop, to have just a few more moments with him. I screamed, 'Almog, I want us to watch TV together, to eat together, why can't that happen anymore?'
"Both our families were with me and cried, too. Michal, his mother, comforted me, trying but failing to soothe me. Instead of me calming and supporting her, she was there for me. I couldn't think about anything, just that the love of my life was taken away," said Noy.
Noy weeps over the coffin (Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)
She has been pale, despondent, and withdrawn. Since the terror attack in Tel Aviv, where a Palestinian stabbed Almog to death, she has been unable to sleep, barely eats or drinks, and is constantly trying to overcome the uncontrollable sobbing with the help of sedatives.
She reconstructs the awful moment when she saw her beloved strewn on the road in a pool of blood as a paramedic tried to revive him. "That image won't leave me. I close my eyes and when I open them, I see Almog covered in blood and I scream for him not to leave me."
Speaking about it is hard for her. She takes a break, wrapping herself in the arms of Mazal, her mother. She takes a breath and recalls Monday morning, the last of Almog's life, a day that began with an embrace and ended in murder.
The last photo taken of the couple
"Almog was supposed to go to a checkup at a clinic in Tzrifin because of a knee problem and then return to the air force base in Nevatim, where he served. He had been at home since Wednesday, and on Monday, after making me some food so I would have something to eat at school, I dropped him off in my dad's car at the bus to Tzrifin.
"He got out of the car, told me he loved me, and I said I would really miss him. Almog, who had a good heart, tried to calm me down and said, 'it's all right, sweetie, we only have three days to get through – Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday – and then I'm home.' But I didn't want to leave him and tried to get a few more seconds. I said, 'that's a long time,' and he said he loved me and got out.
"I sat there with my foot on the brakes, not wanting to drive away from the bus stop, sitting there and looking at him. He stuck his head through the window and told me, 'Noy, you need to get a bus to school soon,' gave me a kiss and went to the bus. That kiss and his last words drive me crazy."
Almog's family at the funeral (Photo: Reuters)
'Call an ambulance'
Once Almog got on his bus, Noy continued on her way. She returned the car to her parents' house, her father gave her a ride to the train, and she made her usual trip to Tel Aviv for school. Like any other day, she got off at HaHagana station and walked about 20 minutes to school.
"That morning, in the middle of grammar class, suddenly one of the girls in my class asked when we were getting married, and the teacher stopped the class to ask what we were talking about, which started a conversation in class about weddings.
"Afterwards, Almog texted me to say he had left his appointment and that he had been referred to a Jerusalem clinic, and said he was on his way to HaHagana station to take a train to Be'er Sheva. I suggested that we meet before he went back to the base, but he explained that his commander was pressuring him to return as soon as possible, and asked that I call him when I was on a break. When I called, I told him about the wedding talk in class and we laughed, when suddenly the line was cut. This was around 12:10. We'd talked for five minutes before the line was disconnected.
Soldiers carry the casket. (Photo: Eli Mandelbaum)
"The second time he called, I heard him drop the phone on the ground. I waited for him to pick it up. I didn't hear any screams, just a commotion. After a few minutes waiting on the line, I shouted, 'Almog, Almog, where are you?' Because of the commotion I heard on the line I realized that something must have happened. I told myself that I knew him, that he was a good person and probably rushed to help people, but I still had a bad feeling. I told my school friends that something seemed off and then, with the phone to my ear, I heard someone yell, 'call an ambulance, he's unconscious.'
Almog had secretly been planning to propose to Noy in a few months
"I decided to hang up and call again, but there was no answer. I left school, started running like crazy to the station and arrived within seven minutes. The whole time I yelled like a madwoman, 'Wait for me, Almog, I'm coming'. When I arrived, a man blocked the way and wouldn't let me pass, and I asked him to just tell me if there was a soldier involved, but he wouldn't respond. I shoved him and got closer, and then I saw my Almog in a pool of blood. Part of his uniform had been stripped off and a paramedic team was performing resuscitation.
"I wanted to touch him, but they wouldn't let me. The policewoman who was there asked for his name and I just wept, shook, and screamed, 'Almog, you're not leaving me. I love you.' I thought he would hear me and get up; I didn't expect such a terrible ending.
Almog's twin brother Sahar kisses the grave (Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)
"I fainted. The policewoman called an ambulance, the paramedics poured water on me and took me to the hospital along with an older person, who later turned out to be the man who struggled with the terrorist. In the ambulance, I asked who ran over my boyfriend, and he was the first to tell me that it was not an accident but a terror attack and that he had been stabbed. Almog only wanted to return to his base, and this terrorist stabbed him in the middle of Tel Aviv.
"At the hospital, they took me to see psychologists who, who said I was brave because I had the strength to run and see what had happened myself. But I didn't feel brave, I just felt like I was inside a bubble and that I would wake up from the nightmare to discover that everything was all right. They gave me sedatives, but I didn't calm down, and nothing was all right.
"The thought that I was in the same hospital as the despicable terrorist who murdered my love, drives me nuts. He'll sit in jail for years, get fed, get schooling, watch TV, and will even get released in some deal, and we lost our angel forever. It makes me crazy."
'He's in heaven and I'm here'
At this stage, when the pain mingles with anger, Noy loses her strength and falls into a deep silence. It takes her a few minutes to revive. "I imagine what happened and can't believe that it's real. When we arrived at Tel Hashomer hospital, where Almog was in surgery for hours, there was a moment of hope when they announced that his pulse had returned. We said prayers and I so hoped for the best, but he passed way. I felt that my whole world had been destroyed. I collapsed."When they announced that that was it, he was gone, and they removed the body from the operating room, I looked at him and begged, 'Almog, get up, don't leave me here alone.' But my words had no power. I was left entirely alone. I know that now he's in heaven and he's happy, but I'm here, and I'll never be happy for the rest of my life."
Almog, 20, and Noy, 19, met about three years ago through a mutual friend in Modi'in, where they lived. She called him "my angel" and he called "my beauty". For a year, they were just friends, and later it turned into a relationship. "He came from a religious family and I came from a traditional one, but I studied at a secular school in Modi'in and he studied at a yeshiva, so I thought there was a distance between us. At first it was just a close bond, like brother and sister – I told him everything, got advice -- and only after a year, when friends kept saying how compatible we were, did we become a couple.
Sahar Shiloni kneels at the grave (Photo: Alex Kolomoisky)
"He helped me get closer to God, not forcing me, but with devotion. I became newly religious, and when everyone said I had changed, I explained that it was because of Almog, who knew how to calm me. When I was sad, he would make me smile. When he was at his base, I was upset and when he had time off to come home I would be happy. He always said that in his prayers, he thanked God that he was lucky enough to meet me and always said that there were no other girls like me," Noy said, and a small, shy smile crept onto her face for the first time.
The subject of marriage took a central role in their conversations over the last year. "I was always telling Almog that I saw him as my husband and the father of my children, and he told me he just wanted me to be happy in life. Not long ago, we even told our parents that we wanted to get married. We started to save money for our wedding and Almog, who was a planner, explained that he didn’t want to live in a rental, but buy a plot of land in a moshav near Modi'in and get a mobile home, and eventually sell it to buy a house in Modi'in close to our families," she recalled.
Almog told Noy's parents about his secret plan to propose on the day he finished his army service, four months from now. Noy discovered the plan only after he died. Although there was no date or formal proposal, Noy admitted that she had already begun to imagine the wedding details.
Noy comforted at the hospital (Photo: Yair Sagi)
"My friend got married a few months ago, and I thought that I wanted something in her style. I took a picture of her with my phone so I would have an idea for the dress. A few days ago, I was sitting on the train to school and couldn't think about math problems, but looked at wedding gowns online. I didn't think about work and a career. I wanted to get married and start a family with Almog. We even knew what names we would give our children. Now I'm afraid to say them because everything I had planned collapsed, so it's better to stay silent."
Almog enlisted in the army as part of the haredi Nahal Brigade, which allows religious Israelis to serve within an observant framework, and was assigned to the air force. Noy, who did national service as a teacher at an elementary school, said that he was eager to join the army, and was diligent about exercise and running.
"He wanted to give as much as he could to the country. When he went to training, I was a little upset that we wouldn't see each other much. He looked me in the eyes and asked me to trust him. In the army, they called him 'Almog who really wants to go home'. He was always looking for ways to go home because he knew how hard it was for me without him.
"He loved the army and wanted to continue serving. More than anything, he dreamed of being an officer, but when he talked about officer training, I asked him to give it up. I didn't see us living an army life. I wanted us to get married and have normal lives. Almog gave up his dream for me, but didn't give up on contributing to the country, and planned to join the police and catch criminals after he finished the army. And now, where is Almog, and where are his plans?"
During his final leave, from last Wednesday until the Monday he was killed, they spent every minute together, as always. "He told me that during this leave, I should think about what I want to do and where I wanted to go, and he'd take me there. I felt like a princess.
"On Thursday we were at a restaurant we both liked in Rishon Letzion, on Friday we were at my parents', where we sat on the porch smoking a hookah with my cousin who broke up with her boyfriend, and then we did Shabbat at his parents'. On Sunday, I bought him a sweater. It was a leave that was all about pampering. At the restaurant, I wanted to pay, and he snatched my credit card, insisting to pay with his small army salary. I asked him to let me pay the tip, because after all, I work as a saleswoman at Zara and I get a salary, but he wouldn't agree, as if he knew it was the last time."
Her entire body aches with grief, she says. "At night, before they buried him, I dreamed of him. I saw him in front of me, he had a huge grin and I saw he was happy. He said that he was watching over us from above and asked me to be strong. And that was it, he said no more. I cried, dashed out of bed and ran to my mom's bed.
"A few hours later, at the funeral, I lay down on the grave and didn't want to move. 'You need to come with me, home to Modi'in, it can't be any other way,' I said. I miss his calm embrace so much. You know, when he would go back to his base for two weeks, I asked him how I would hold on so long without him and he always said, 'we'll get through it'. How can I hold on now without him, and where's his answer?" she asked in a whisper, tears choking her throat.
