Six Years of Hell Part 7

22 0 0
                                    

"What is the day and year? Are there anymore Jews alive?" The room fell silent as we waited for the Soviet soldier to respond. He answered to a stern voice:

"It is the twenty-seventh of January 1945. There are a few Jews left, they are scattered all over Poland." People cheered and ran out of the doors! I, however, slowly dragged myself out the door, and went behind the shed. I dropped beside Hilda's body and sobbed. A man's hand dropped on my left shoulder, I jumped in fear only to hear my father's voice:

"Elsa it's alright it is me, my dear!" I turned and jumped up into his arms, he was much weaker than I remember him being six years ago, then again so was I. "Oh, I love you, my dear!" He cried out as we embraced each other tightly.

"Where is mom, is she alright?" I asked through my tears.

"Oh, my darling! They killed your mother the same day they took you. I am so sorry!" He wept into my shoulder, and my crying got louder.

That day was the best and worst day of my life. I have never forgotten that day and I never will. From that day foreword, I have never complained about school. I will never again take my freedom for granted. We are so lucky to be free, it's just so sad that I had to go through hell to learn that lesson. If I could go back to that day, I would have given my mom a kiss and said, "I love you". I guess now I will never be able to tell her.

Lest We Forget! 

Six Years of HellWhere stories live. Discover now