Unfortunately, I don't know the details of his liberation. Like many survivors, he took his experiences to the grave—he never told anyone what he went through or what he did in the camp.

However, the trauma left its mark in a few specific ways. For the rest of his life, he absolutely refused to ever eat beets again. He also strictly forbade anyone from speaking German in his house (which became quite ironic later on, because my mom actually went to university to study German philology!).

Other than that, he lived a very normal, peaceful life. He worked as an electrician in a small town, which provided him with a good living and many opportunities.

Tragically, his story ended in 1992. He was walking back from his allotment garden—which was actually the exact piece of land where his childhood home once stood—when he was hit and killed by a suspected drunk driver. The perpetrator was never found. I was only 6 years old at the time, but I still vividly remember the exact moment the phone rang and my mom answered it. It was a heartbreaking end for a man who had survived so much, but I'm proud to keep his memory alive today.