May 1997. My first day at IBM Haifa Research Lab (HRL). The usual ceremonial seat assignment, terminal, some leftover paperwork, meeting the rest of the staff, back to my new corner to start and gain some knowledge of IBM Storage, my place of work for the next nine years. Suddenly, I heard a loud voice outside my office, “food”, the voice said. It was still patient. Then the word “food” was repeated another couple of times. The patience was significantly reduced this time. I came out of my office, and I saw a tall, handsome man, with the deepest, kindest, blue eyes I’ve ever seen. It was Gabriel Walder. Better known as Gabi.
Finally, when enough people congregated outside. In the coming days, and years, for the next eight years, I became conditioned. As a good old Pavlovian dog, when I heard Gabi out of my office saying the word “food”, I would start to drool…
Gabi and I worked together for many years. For years, we would listen to each other’s stories, share jokes, and argued, a lot, on very complex algorithms that had to do with the transferring huge amounts of data from one part of the planet to the other, without losing one byte, providing customers with the ability to recover from disasters.
Over the years, I met Gabi’s family, his old dog Shoshana, and the new one Duke. I met his friends, visited his home in Haifa, and in Tucson. Gabi Walder was a significant part of my life.
One day, June 2005, when my plane hit the runway in Tucson Arizona, my phone rang as soon as I turned it on. It was Dorit, my wife. She said Gabi passed away. I was in a state of shock, out of words. Gal, his manager was with me on that plane. We needed a quick decision. After twenty four hours in the air, Gal turned around and went home to participate in the funeral. With a heavy heart, I continued as planned. I shouldn’t have.
It’s been three years since Gabi left us. I can still hear his voice laughing when I’m told a joke. I can see his face in large crowds once in a while. I remember him daily. Gabi was taken from us prematurely. He could have lived among us for many more years, making us all happy, making us all reflect. He could have contributed so much more innovation, reflection, insight. His family misses him terribly. So do his friends. So do everyone who ever met him. So do I.
I wrote a eulogy for Gabi, the day he died. I’m not in possession of many documents from that period. I’ll never lose this one. It’s been three years, I can’t believe it.
June 14, 2005
We lost a friend yesterday. A friend and a colleague. Gabi was one of the first to join the Storage Development Department. Many things can be attributed to Gabi: the love of life, the professionalism, the sense of humor, the appreciation of good food, a good show, a good conversation. Gabi was a special guy. He could get all whipped out of shape for some minor incident, laugh at a joke, and come up with a really good idea, all on the same hour. One thing’s for sure, you could always count on Gabi for help in just about anything.
Gabi will be remembered for being a good friend, a true professional, a husband and a father. He will be remembered as the 12:00 sharp lunch guy, and the proud owner of the chair at the head of the Copy Services table in the cafeteria. Gabi will be remembered for the strong sense of justice he had.
Gabi will be remembered for PPRC (Peer to Peer Remote Copy) Establish Path. In fact, Gabi is PPRC Establish Path.
I will personally miss him terribly. Gabi was one of the emblems of the Copy Services team in Haifa, and so he shall remain.
To the family: there’s nothing we can possibly say to describe the pain we feel here. Gabi has left a big hole behind. His presence will be felt throughout the hallways here for a very long time. Over the years, we have become a family, an extended family of colleagues, their spouses and their children. We were all involved in each other’s lives, for better for worse. In Gabi’s absence, you, his dearest family, shall remain part of our extended family. We will continue sharing with you our joys and pains.
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Amiram Hayardeny
It’s been three years. I guess people like Gabi take a lot longer to forget. Millenia.
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