Zvi Helmut Steinitz Memoirs for eternal remembrance For years I was preoccupied with the thought of documenting the tragic fate of my family members, all of them perished in the Holocaust. Yet for almost my whole life, I tried to suppress the sorrowful past, wary of resurrecting the years of tears and suffering. I rarely spoke of the wartime atrocities. I never returned to the country where death resided, where streams of Jewish blood saturated the earth. I couldn?t bring myself to stand before the silent mass grave in Belzec, where my parents, my brother and my aunt lie buried together with hundreds upon thousands of Jewish victims. I couldn?t face the death of those I loved, couldn't look into their eyes. In my mind, they live on. Many years later, vivid images from the monstrous war years began to appear frequently, images that cast a shadow over my day-to-day life and burdened my mind. I gradually became aware of my age, too. I was no longer young, and already I felt under pressure to finally write down the story of my family. All my life I had been haunted by the question of how I had survived the war, where I had drawn the mental and physical strength that helped me to survive those tortuous years. There is no explanation for my survival, and yet I am certain that the upbringing that my parents gave me had a significant influence on my steadfastness and determination, particularly in critical situations. My parents brought my brother and me up with love and human values that I have carried with me through my life. In moments of deepest despair and deadly peril, hidden strengths awakened in me, strengths that sharpened my senses and saved my life. I strongly believe that the values installed in childhood will always stay with a person and develop into principles that a young person can take into independent life. Had I not possessed these principles, not even blind luck or sheer coincidence could have saved me. As the only surviving member of my fa