Itay was born in Be'eri. He was the third child of Rafi Svirsky, a member of the "Avir" founding group, and Orit Sela, daughter of Aviva and Bemik, among the founders of the kibbutz. Orit and Rafi raised his older siblings, Merav and Yonatan, in Giv'atayim until the kibbutz decided to end communal sleeping arrangements. They returned to Be'eri a few months before Itay was born. In time the youngest son, Yuval, joined them.

The young Svirsky family was committed to the kibbutz with all the fervour of the founding generation, but with a critical eye and creative thinking, open to change. They carried central roles in the kibbutz: Orit in the management of the printing house and in the social sphere, Rafi in the economic sphere. From the home he grew up in came Itay's human devotion, and his constant wish to be there for others.

Itay was a curious and sensitive child, with golden curls and a shy half-smile. Even in his childhood photographs you can see the kind eyes and the searching look, alert to everything around him. Alongside that, from a young age it was clear he was also a gifted athlete: starting with Be'eri's mini-basketball team, through Dov's tennis lessons, and on to football — a considerable talent that was never fully realised, perhaps partly because of an equal talent for getting injured mid-match. His classmates from the "Tapuach" class say he was a level above everyone else, and that he always "gave us a lesson out on the pitch". Beyond the talent and the enjoyment of the game, Itay was a devoted Maccabi Tel Aviv supporter and spent a great deal of time with friends and family watching football. In his teenage years his love of music also developed. He studied voice and enjoyed playing the guitar and the piano, and was especially fond of Evyatar Banai and Amir Lev.

Merav describes the family as "a house of boys", with the kind of sibling arguments that were a way of showing each other they cared. Itay's second home was the home of his grandmother Aviva and grandfather Bemik, the place where he could simply be who he was, with no questions and no demands. He spent almost every afternoon there, with his grandmother's plate of fruit and cakes, until his parents came home from work. On Saturdays his grandfather's chips and salad were added, and a crowd of cousins playing on the grass outside. Another significant home was his grandmother Aviva's flat opposite Habima in Tel Aviv. The family would travel there some Saturdays, and every year for a family holiday with all the attractions of the big city. Naturally, they never missed a meal at Aharoni's Chinese restaurant, which was Itay's favourite.

From a young age it was clear that Itay was occupied with philosophical questions about life and about the human soul. In secondary school he studied Jewish thought, and enjoyed the discussions and the chance to engage with fundamental questions in depth and with a completely open mind. He went on holding philosophical discussions always and everywhere, on every subject under the sun, with an innocent, almost childlike curiosity, and a readiness to genuinely listen to the other side and learn something new. He turned that philosophical inclination inwards as well: he often wondered whether he was truly happy, whether he was in the right place for him, always in a process of self-searching.

Itay enlisted late because of a sports injury, and served in the Air Control Unit. After his discharge he travelled to India, and when he returned he moved between Be'eri and Tel Aviv, until he decided to settle in the city. In 2010 he began a BA in psychology and philosophy at Tel Aviv University. The search for the thing that fitted him most precisely did not spare his studies either: he swapped philosophy for economics, and economics for a general BA, and afterwards also did an MBA. Alongside that, he continued with personal development work and with the search for the right path for him.

That is how, a few years ago, through his mother and his aunt Osnat, he came to the Satya method — first as a practitioner, and over the past year he completed the trainers' course and began, in small steps, to guide others himself. Friends and family members he practised on during his studies say the method allowed him to express his remarkable ability to be genuinely interested in people, to listen deeply, and to reflect back what he heard. He was really good at it, and it seemed that for the first time he felt he had found the right place for himself professionally. Through the method he went on to study further courses, including in writing and in business management.

Out of the natural curiosity that characterised him, he also came to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, which became an inseparable part of his life over his last two and a half years. At first he recoiled from the intensity and the aggressive contact, but over time he overcame the apprehension and his athletic talent came through. He would come to training four times a week with great enjoyment, and also took up Muay Thai and MMA, more aggressive forms of fighting. As in every place he went, he formed close human connections and was very much loved, and became part of the family at the club where he trained.

Above all, Itay loved spending time with his immediate and extended family, and was there for them for any help they needed, with care and concern. He had warm, close relationships with his aunts, uncles and cousins, and later with their children too. He was the perfect uncle to Keinan and Ilam, Merav and Dan's sons — the one you could always rely on to turn up and help and be fully present and involved, down to the last detail. Dror, Yuval and Rotem's son, had only a short time with the attentive, loving Uncle Itay. He cared for Rafi devotedly after his heart attack, took the dogs on long walks and spent a lot of "Tel Aviv time" with him that was precious to them both. In the last year he shared "Tel Aviv time" with his brother Yonatan as well, which let them find common interests and deepen their bond. And of course, there was the special connection with his grandmother Aviva. For her he would come to Be'eri almost every weekend, giving Gracie the carer a chance to rest, and spending real grandmother-and-grandson time with her, exactly as he had in his childhood years. In order to be close to her, he had recently even considered moving back to the kibbutz.

For Itay and his brothers and sister, the heart of family life was always Orit's warm, bright home, which she gathered everyone into with boundless maternal care. That was "home", the safe base that was destroyed that Saturday, with the memories of childhood inside it.

On Friday the sixth of October, Itay came to be with the family at Be'eri, as he did almost every weekend. The brutal attack on the kibbutz caught him at Orit's. The two of them shut themselves in the safe room, with the sound of gunfire and shouting in Arabic all around them. The family stayed in touch through their shared WhatsApp group. Slowly and gradually the connections were cut: first with Rafi, then with Itay, and the last was Orit. She sent a heart, and another heart.

Orit and Rafi were murdered at Be'eri on the seventh of October. Itay's fate was unclear. Later, the family received an indication that Itay had been taken to Gaza. After around fifty days, a sign of life came through hostages who had been held with him and were released. They said that he had seen his mother dead, and had asked them to make contact with Merav and ask her to do everything possible to free him. And indeed Merav, together with his brothers and sister and the whole extended family and his many friends, fought until the very last moment to bring Itay back alive. The struggle fell on deaf ears. Itay was murdered in Gaza, after ninety-nine days in captivity.

Itay's painful death is the absolute opposite of his life and of who he was: a man of connection, humanity and compassion, sensitive and gentle, open and curious, a peacemaker who always looked to do good and to see the other person. When he was asked, as part of his Satya studies, what kind of guide he would want to be, he said:

"Relaxed, humble, compassionate, and with a sense of humour."

That is the person he wanted to be. That is the person he was, and that is how we will always remember him.

May his memory be blessed.