hermann goldberg. >> after the war, because i didn't see my mother, i had this fantasy that perhaps she did survive by some miracle, and that she was in one of thosesp ced people's camps. now, the fact that i neverent to look for her testifies to the fact that i knew she wasn't aliv but i somehow needed to keep her alive in my mind, in my fantasy, so that i didn't actually have to deal with this terribleha trauma that shbeen gassed. i wrote a poem about it once when i was at a very low point in my life.it as very short, it said, "mummy, who held your hand when you were dying who closed your eyes when youwe dead?" >> i d meet my father in auschwitz, surprisingly enough. but... i feel so sad, that i remember r'lking with him, holding my hand and my brothand, and was talking to my brother. he hardly said anything to me. and i felt as though i wish i could ask him or talk to him. but then i thought to myself,av what must hefelt, holding my hand, 12 years old there, not being able to protect him? >> and those were the last moments you shared together? >> yeah. yes. right, we're gonna be goin