At 92 my father-in-law a”h moved to Israel.

He lived one house away from us on the second floor. From his living room chair with the two French doors wide open he would sit for hours looking into the Jerusalem sky.

I would visit every day with a small pot of something warm to eat.

I think it was his smile or his eyes that lit up when he thanked me that kept me coming the next day.

Or maybe it was the clouds of majesty that still surrounded him from the world of Hungary.

Or maybe it was that he was a poet before the war and I heard through the syllables in his words.

Or maybe it was that he was more than a father-in-law. He was a father to me.

My father-in-law had one request in his life: that we publish his book. Somehow between life children and moving to Israel we didn’t get to it.

Last week not even realizing that this week was my father-in-law’s 10^th yahrtzeit I asked my husband to print out the book so I could start editing it.

To honor my father-in-law’s life request at least in part I would like to share a piece of his book:

Every day we worked on the railway tracks but as fast as we repaired the lines the American air force came back the next day and bombed them again.

In the beginning of June 1944 it started. A heartbreaking scene every day. Trains of long cattle cars filled with cries of children women and men. From every car we saw arms stretched from the small windows and heard voices crying “Water! Air!”

At first I was paralyzed. But I came to my senses and when the SS villains could not see me I threw four bottles of water into two windows. Then I went for more water. There was a store close by where they sold empty water bottles so I was able to buy more and fill them. It seemed so insignificant but perhaps I helped some children.

Over the next few days I continued to buy and fill water bottles until my money was gone.

Our crew then pooled our money until we had bought out all the bottles the store had in stock. I bought larger bottles which I filled when the guards were not watching.

When the trains stopped I put full bottles of water into each window.

A week or so later we were working on the tracks as usual when I heard a voice from one of the carriage windows crying for water — a voice that sounded like my wife’s.

Overwhelmed I fainted.

The boys from the crew threw water on me and I regained consciousness. I jumped up and ran after the slowly moving train shouting my wife’s name. Somehow I caught up to the train and was able to throw a few large bottles of water into the windows of two cars.

Then an SS guard saw me and hit me viciously with the butt of his rifle; I still have the scar to remind me. This was the last time I heard my wife’s voice and the last act of kindness I did for her.

And for you dear Father-in-Law I hope this story is an aliyat neshamah. One small lasting act of kindness.

L’iluy nishmas Gedalia ben Tzvi Aryeh Sender