She helps, protects, listens, advises and nurtures physically and morally. She makes
sure that her family is loved 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year. At
least that's how I remember my mother, for the few precious years I was blessed to
have her. But no words can describe the sacrifice she made out of love for me, her
young son.
I was 19 years old, and I was being taken to a concentration camp with a large group
of other Jews. It was clear that we were destined to die.
Suddenly my mother stepped in and traded places with me. And although it was more
than 50 years ago, I will never forget her last words to me and her good-bye look.
"I have lived long enough. You have to survive because you are so young," she said.
Most kids are born only once. I was given birth twice - by the same mother.
By Joseph C. Rosenbaum
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Dressing room rituals