Though I never really knew the man who was my great uncle, I feel compelled to write about him in some small way to acknowledge his passing. He died in the early morning hours on 23 December 2010 of complications with dementia and just general illnesses that couldn’t be worked through.
While this in itself should not be something worth blogging about, what happened in his earlier life is. You see, my great uncle was born in Poland and fell victim to the destruction that Adolph Hitler reigned down upon Eastern Europe during World War II. As I said, I never really knew my uncle, but the last time I saw him – over 10 years ago for a family wedding in North Carolina – as he sat talking with my father and brother, I was shown his identification number tattooed on his forearm. He had been in a concentration camp in Poland. Right now I don’t recall how he came to be in the US, but I’m sure he was liberated from the camp he was in and brought to the US by our military.
He endured with the demetia and sickness for quite a long time. Longer than most people would and the doctors concluded it was because he’d survived his time in the concentration camp that gave him the mental and physical fortitude to withstand the illnesses later in life.
I hope now he has found peace.