A very courageous man died today.
He wasn't known to a lot of people. He lived in a small town of about 1,200 in Canada. He was a short, but very stocky and muscled man - not very talkative. He and his wife and my parents became friends years ago, only to find out that somehow his wife and my father had known each other before.
I have eight tattoos. The only time I was ever ashamed of them was sitting at a dinner table with my parents and this man and his wife. As I looked down, I saw the numbers on his arm. I wanted to cover every tattoo on my body, feeling shame that I so lightly had myself inked for pleasure when he was forced to have his out of pain and torture.
He lived through three or four (maybe five) concentration camps. One day the Germans put a group of men (including him) on a train to take them to the town center. They all knew what the outcome would be and some of them decided to try to escape.
He shot and killed a Nazi guard and jumped from the train, breaking his arm. He never did see a doctor to get it fixed. He fled and later went to Israel to serve in the Israeli Navy.
He never spoke about those times. In this past year, after living through a past that most would never survive, he lost a sister, a daughter and a niece, and almost lost his wife. This morning all his battles were over.
Zvi, you can rest now, without ever having another nightmare. You were a hero and you were very loved. Wherever you are is a safer place now because you are there.
Shalom, and may God always be with you.
I have eight tattoos. The only time I was ever ashamed of them was sitting at a dinner table with my parents and this man and his wife. As I looked down, I saw the numbers on his arm. I wanted to cover every tattoo on my body, feeling shame that I so lightly had myself inked for pleasure when he was forced to have his out of pain and torture.
He lived through three or four (maybe five) concentration camps. One day the Germans put a group of men (including him) on a train to take them to the town center. They all knew what the outcome would be and some of them decided to try to escape.
He shot and killed a Nazi guard and jumped from the train, breaking his arm. He never did see a doctor to get it fixed. He fled and later went to Israel to serve in the Israeli Navy.
He never spoke about those times. In this past year, after living through a past that most would never survive, he lost a sister, a daughter and a niece, and almost lost his wife. This morning all his battles were over.
Zvi, you can rest now, without ever having another nightmare. You were a hero and you were very loved. Wherever you are is a safer place now because you are there.
Shalom, and may God always be with you.