I would not be able to visit the memorial in Sally Burnette's story.
My maternal grandparents managed to leave the Warsaw Ghetto around1910.
My grandfather was able to go ahead to London, England and secure a home for his family. He then sent for his wife and two sons. I did not know them because they died before I was born but the story goes that my grandmother Ann had to creep through some fields bordering Poland with a baby in her arms and a toddler. The toddler, Alexander, ran off amongst the tall grasses and it took her hours to find him. Eventually she arrived in England and my grandfather established an umbrella manufacturing factory. Here they are pictured with their whole family including the rest of their children born in London.
I know that if they remained in Warsaw they would have been exterminated. My mother, weeping once told me that, twenty years after the war the news came that her cousins had been gassed in a concentration camp.
Every year on the Day of Atonement, when I was a child, my mother would send me out to play before the prayer for the dead was recited by the whole community; because she did not want me to see the whole congregation sobbing.