“At home we never mentioned the war. It was too painful. My relationship with my mother was very bad. In 1942 she had a miscarriage. It was a girl and she had hoped that her next child would be a boy. I probably reminded her too much of it and every time we got into a fight, she would say: ‘I wish you were a boy’. Whenever she would say that me heart was bleeding. Luckily I was very close with my father. He was an honest man. He always made sure the boys took on as many domestic tasks as the girls, which was quite rare for Jewish families in those times.
Then this terrible day came were we found out he had cancer. They tried to save him but the cancer had already spread and on the 29th of September 1961 he passed away. He had just turned 45. The pain I felt is indescribable. Until this day, thinking about his passing hurts.”