This is the photo of Sarah Kol (1933-1944), my grandfather’s niece. She was murdered, age 11, along with her mother Ida, my grandfather’s eldest sister, and many others, by the Nazis in Auschwitz-Birkenau.
She is one of the millions lost to the rabid hate the Nazis practiced, spread, and fed.
Each one of those millions lost was an entire lost world.
Each murder left a gaping hole where their lives and accomplishments, their stories, their loves and joys, their children and grand-children who’d never be, would have been, should have been …
My grandfather lost many in his family in the Holocaust.
My grandmother lost many in hers.
Other branches of my family lost loved ones, too.
Many families lost even more.
Some have no one left to remember. Many have no photos. No one to tell their stories.
So we must. As we can. Tell of those we know.
Little Sarah’s is but one face of many.
Hers was a life all its own. Snuffed out but not forgotten.
May her memory be a blessing.
May all their memories be a blessing. Six million. More. So we remember.
So we never forget.
Little Sarah, you were born but a year before my mother. The Nazis killed you, but they could not kill your memory. You live in each of us. The memory of your mother and siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles lives on, too. I see your face in my sisters and many cousins and nieces.
We are you.
And we remember.