Memories

As I looked in my wardrobe, I saw a uniform I was NOT proud of. A KILLING uniform. Red, brown, black, three colours I will never forget, The NAZI uniform.
Suddenly memories came flooding back. Horrible, horrible memories. Children screaming, parents crying, people dying. WAR. War.
He was wrong.
Adolf Hitler was wrong.
My best friend Arnold died because he was Jewish. Thinking about Arnold makes me cry. I suddenly start to cry heavy tears. I was a lonely child and Arnold was my first and only friend. The other children never cared.
But he cared.
I was 15 years old when it happened, I didn’t know what was happening. He died because of ME, a story I can’t bring myself to speak of.
I hear my great granddaughter Luna hurry to my room to comfort me. “Arnold was happy when he died. He wanted you to live a happy life, not die,” she said to me.
We hugged for ten minutes and she left.
As Luna walked away, I slowly and peacefully fell asleep forever. To finally forever be with Arnold. I will never wake.
Luna will be sad I’m gone.
But she’ll be happy I’m with Arnold.

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