March of the Living

Zsidó világ / 2024. Május 09. / 15:43

My mother was one of nine siblings. I never knew my grandparents, who were, after they had been rounded up by the Hungarian gendarmes sent to Auschwitz concentration camp some eighty or so years ago. My mother together with only two of her sisters survived the horrors of the Holocaust. My mother lived her entire life with the number tattooed on her arm and the horrors of the Holocaust burnt into her soul, the memory of the tragedy of her parents and siblings.