death could not come between us.
I learned that my father had been taken away. Even in the
camp, he gave his food to the needier ones, explaining,
"I always have enough." He hoped to meet with me
along the way, but our paths never crossed. He was remembered
as saying, "If one man can do this to another, there is
no reason for me to go back." And he didn't come back. My
beloved father, who always gave to others, starved to death.
What had become of "Live and let live"? He was so
greatly respected in the camp that he was the only one not
buried in a common grave.
After the war, an eyewitness told me all this and led us to
his grave. We brought him back, and he was the first to be
buried in the Jewish Memorial Cemetery for the Martyrs in
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