She was a kid, when the war broke up. A teen, only just discovering life. Falling in love for the very first time. Recognizing in her high school sweetheart her future husband, the father of her children. It was a special time, a happy time. The war was somewhere far, far away, in a distant land. It loomed there to catch up with her later.
All her adult life she has been carrying the burden of almost personal guilt for what happened to the world then. She – who has not ever hurt anybody – feels deeply responsible for the atrocities committed against people. She is not a Jew, but she goes to church to commemorate the Holocaust, to pray for the slaughtered millions, to pray for us.
Her memory was not tainted by war. It was pure and untouched, like the freshly fallen snow. She wanted to remember. She filled her memory with ugly things that did not belong: mountains of human flesh, Auschwitz barbed wire that makes her heart bleed.
Always pray for forgiveness. Never forget. Never.
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur