Guilt is a funny thing.
I have never done anything in my life to feel such a heavy burden, but I feel it nonetheless.
My burden I carry is my name.
What curse befalls those who carry on the names of evil men!
I carry the burden of being a grandson to an evil man that ran in the inner circles of the Nazi party.
He carried out plans that would see to the death of so many countless innocent people.
I have bore my name around the world as a curse. Every night when I close my eyes, I see the generations of those slain, and I see their unborn children and grandchildren, peering at me through the black night.
They cry out in agony from their death, and I can do nothing to help them. I am cursed for all eternity I have concluded.
I never will find happiness in this world, this world that carries the deeds of my forefathers and has their sentences carved on the stone tablet of history. I will never be able to chisel those deeds away.
There will be a day, when I stand before the Creator, and I will see my family’s face around me, as well as the faces of those murdered.
I will fall to my face and continue to cry out into the void of eternity, my sorrows for what has transpired.
Their soft faces, the faces of the old and the young, the faces of lovers, the faces of brothers and sisters, I will see.
I will see what might have happened if they had lived. One grandchild may have invented the cure for cancer, while another lived a simple life with their small family.
My name is a curse that I will bear for the rest of my living days.
I am condemned to carry it like the burden that Cain had after he killed Abel.
The people I meet will see the words “Son of murderers” written on my forehead.
Never shall I rest.