My aunt was buried last Friday, the last of her generation in my family. We were not close but out of respect for her son, my cousin, I went along to the service.
Jewish services for the dead are Spartan yet comforting. There are no endless eulogies, just a brief summary of the facts as we know them.
My aunt and her sister were marched to Ravensbruck sometime in 1943. I never knew much of the detail nor did we get them last Friday.
My own parents, like so many Holocaust survivors, did not wish to remember. Another aunt had tattooed numbers on…