23/04/2025
This is a picture of a family on a happy day. Aunt Rita, my mother’s only sister, is getting married. On the right is my grandfather Moshe. Next to him is Rita, next to her grandmother Betzo and on the left, my mother Ayla. Happiness that came after years of hardship. A family fleeing the terror of the N***s. And like refugees, moving from place to place in search of shelter and livelihood. Luckily for them, they survived and managed to reach a country that was being established by an unpaved road. Little by little, with diligence and perseverance, they built a new life for themselves. My grandmother looks very happy, while my grandfather looks less so. Maybe he thought about the life he left behind. Poland, Rozvodov, the match business, Siberia. Yesterday, my cousin Liora told me about her father’s experiences in the shadow of the Holocaust and a sentence was engraved in my mind, about Holocaust awareness. To be careful and tell so that everyone remembers, internalizes, and learns that history can repeat itself.
