Martin Peled

Martin, this is the hardest thing I've ever written, darling, and not only because my tears are totally blurring the keyboard. It's the first time for almost 30 years that I'm submitting something to ESRA that you haven't proofed for me, and I don't know how I'm going to do it alone. You did everything for us, Mart – for Sidelle, Tal, Joanna, and me – you did the garden and the dishwasher, the finances and the cars: you fixed what was broken and baked us our daily bread, you made granola and made us smile – and you did everything with joy.

You were passionate about so many things: a passionate Zionist who made a major contribution to the security and safety of the State of Israel, passionate about your golf and West Ham United soccer, Scrabble and mowing the lawn. You drank your tea with passion, cleaned the pool with zest – you sprang out of bed in the morning and sang Hazanut in the shower with gusto … you made our lives festive and fun. To know you was to love you – you were gorgeous and funny and helpful and so, so nice – your family adored you, my family adored you, your work friends and golf friends and all our friends adored you.

Born in London, you grew up with the Beatles, and in your younger days were often mistaken for Sir Paul himself … although with age you grew more handsome than McCartney. You moved to Israel in your late twenties, and became a legend in the Prime Minister's Office, where you worked. But you never, ever let your success go to your head, just like you never, ever complained when pancreatic cancer hit you – choosing instead to share your experiences with others in the hope of easing their path (see http://fightingpancreaticcancer.wordpress.com).

You were the most organized person I've ever met – everything filed and color-coded and alphabetical – you had your systems for cutting and storing firewood for the winter; your nails and screws were sorted by size – everything worked and flowed in our happy home, and everything seemed effortless. You volunteered when you could for Yad Vashem, ESRA and the Lion of Judah, and whatever you did you did perfectly, efficiently and systematically. Your energy was endless: when you left one department in your office, it took four people to replace you – and they still needed you to assist them over and over.

You were magnetic, Martin, and so very beautiful; everyone wanted to be your friend. You were endlessly generous with your time and your expertise – helping whomever needed you with genuine pleasure – and making each task into an adventure (who else could clean dog-dirt off shoes with enjoyment and a smile?) Despite your enormous energy, there was a calmness about you; you always had time for another cup of tea and a chat, and a look at the crossword which you could solve in one sitting. You could do just about anything, my angel, and somehow you had an instinctual skill for problem-solving at your job and at home – we always felt so safe with you, so everything-will-be-alright-in-the-end 'cause daddy's dealing with it.

And now you're no longer with us. So we're learning to iron our own clothes and change light bulbs and pick avocados and squeeze grapefruits and pay the bills. But, for the moment, the joy has gone and we don't feel festive anymore. For your sake, Mart, and to honor your memory, we're working on it.

Rest in peace, my love.