My Dad Never Told Me About His Holocaust Past. Then I Found His Letters
Summary
The author's father (far right). The day my childhood came to an abrupt end and my life changed for evermore was 11 th August 1967. I was twelve and was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of my mum’s piercing screams which rocked the house to its very foundations. The hospital had called to break the news my dad had died. He was forty-one. I wish I could say that the next few days were a constant blur, but they have remained with me for fifty-nine years. As is customary, my dad was buried within two days, and our home became a hub of activity with relatives and friends coming…
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My Dad Never Told Me About His Holocaust Past. Then I Found His Letters
The author's father (far right). The day my childhood came to an abrupt end and my life changed for evermore was 11 th August 1967. I was twelve and was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of my mum’s piercing screams which rocked the house to its very...
