Yom HaShoah

As I look at the daffodils, I remember.

The only flower in my garden is the daffodil, and I plant more every year... I do this not only for their obvious beauty, but because the sight of one reminds me each spring to remember.

I remember the Martyrology as delivered by two survivors, who were members of my congregation as I was growing up. I remember their stories, which always included those who did not make it. I remember the tears on the faces of the adults when I was a young child and could not understand. I remember the tears on my face as I began to understand. I've not been able to face the museum here in DC, but I remember.

May the Eternal hear our silent tears, as we remember and work toward a day when Never Again is just a memory and not our battle cry as we work to protect all those being slain for the crime of being different.

Shalom. I remember.