The following are excerpts from her diaries. They are Google translates from the transcriptions that have been made from her handwritten Polish.

Łódź, Sunday 30 September 06

I haven't written for a long time[1] - and the reasons were so varied!

On September 19, I met Horow[itz][2] on the street. I knew he was going to arrive at that time and I didn't want to meet him on the street. That is why I walked on the left. Suddenly, someone was passing on the opposite side - Hor, of course. I was walking to Kania. So only a few houses and I said very little. He said he was in Łódź to take care of some business, then he said something about the congress – which by the way he had already written in his card, then he added that despite my wishes – he could tell me “everything, everything”. He said this with great enthusiasm. When we said goodbye I saw (or maybe I imagined it) that he wanted to tell me something, but somehow he didn’t say anything.

I didn’t go out at all for two days of the New Year. Julek saw him and told me that he didn’t even tell me to bow. On Saturday, so I really couldn’t stand to see him anymore – I went out with the children.[3]

The day was bright, sunny, although a bit chilly. A wonderful autumn day. All three of us were in a fabulous mood. On our way back from the post office we met Hor[owitz]. He was walking with his father. He bowed to us with a smile. When we were coming back from the grammar school, we met him again, this time alone. He came to us. It was almost near the house, so we didn’t say anything to each other. When we shook hands, it seemed to me again that he wanted to say something, but it ended in silence. I was terribly outraged by such stupidity. I could have beaten him then, like a stupid, ugly child. I decided to deliberately go out on the street on Sunday and swear at him as much as I could. I guarantee that I would not mince my words. In the meantime...

At 7 p.m. I came home with Mom from Uncle Mak(?)[4], with whom Mom had gone to say goodbye. When we had only entered one room, the maid informed us that a man had fallen from the second floor[5]... it was the father...

The din, the uproar, the terror and the horror of the first moments – the funeral and the condolences made this week some kind of stunning [illegible] . I felt gratitude to Lotka and Gucia for their daily visits and to Hor[owtiz]. for his absence during all this time, for the lack of even a word of sympathy from him, some deep anger, downright intrusiveness. If he had come right away in the first days, I would have said more than one bad word to him, now I would probably keep quiet. Today was a week of the funeral – people indifferent and very dear to us came, and neither among the first nor among the second could I get enough of the one I had invested so much emotion and time in my dreams… He told me he would leave on Tuesday. Perhaps if he did not meet me on the street today or tomorrow, he would come to say goodbye according to the Easter plan. Much depends on the circumstances at home, what kind of goodbye this will be. I don't make any plans for this, but if I could wish for anything, I would sincerely and honestly tell him everything I think about him. At least let him not make as many mistakes about another woman as he did about me. What hurts so much...

...

Łódź, Wednesday, October 10, 2006

The dead speak and in a terrible language at that – Daddy comes to my mind more and more often, in brighter and brighter light. I will probably assess the full significance of the accident[6] only after some time.

This is contained inside one of Aunt Franka's diaries (the one for the years 1932-36. There is no envelope, and he doesn't appear to address this to anyone, so unclear if it was something he sent to Franka or later passed on to her. It is dated just three days after his father's death. Written in German and signed with the French version of his name. He appears to be witnessing his mother's grief, so presumably in Lodz when writing this.

Google translate of the transcribed German:

Tuesday, 25.9.06, morning.

I hardly believe that I have fully grasped the magnitude of the misfortune that has befallen us. I cannot change the fact, but my mind cannot understand why? Why was a man like my late father, who was very familiar with the tenets of religion and according to which the arbitrary bringing about of death is considered the greatest sin, a man who was surrounded by the extraordinary and warm love of a tender wife, whose sacrifice for him reached a classic level, a man who had struggled his whole life to be blameless and who only fought to have an unblemished reputation and an unblemished name - such a man capable of such an act. Why?

As you can imagine, my poor mother is desperate. Her pain is endless. Her heart is bleeding so much that it is really difficult for him to comfort her. Because who feels the loss more deeply and intimately than this devastated woman, for whom her husband was the world to her, whose presence alone gave every thing and every event a different, or rather the right appreciation and understanding. Every sigh from her chest and every tear from her eyes testifies to such a warmth of feeling and devotion to her husband that it is touching to watch her misery.

Isn't human fate cruel? Doesn't it tear apart people who belong together without good reason? Can we humans really do nothing about this? Are we just tools in the hands of a higher power? And what is our life if the finale of the cold is death, with no turning back, no tomorrow.....

He died like someone who had trained himself for death, and threw away what he loved most as if it were useless trinkets!

May you be protected from sorrow forever!!

Always yours, Julian