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Sending hope in their final letters The basket of letters had been sitting in the closet of my family’s home for over 50 years. They were letters my grandparents had written to their son, my father, in the months of 1941 before they were taken to a concentration camp in Czechoslovakia. They were Austrian citizens and the letters were written in their native language of German, which no one in my family spoke other than my father. Many years after Dad had passed away, my mother gave me this basket of letters and I was fortunate to find a kind woman who could translate them for me. As she read page after page, her German accent unfolded the words and it was as if my grandparents were speaking. Finally, I had heard from the grandparents I had never known. Their words assured their son they were okay and not to worry about them. They were hoping to get visas issued so they could travel to America. They were learning to speak English and were adjusting to the restrictions forced upon them by the Nazis. They spoke of other relatives and the hope of being together soon. Always optimistic, they never complained. And in each letter, they encouraged their son to take care of his health and to succeed in his life in America. Their visas never arrived and the letters to their son stopped. Elise Israel, Candler |
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