Letter To My Beloved Father October, 1943

My beloved son

Before you judge my actions, you should know exactly what happened on the 21st of October, 1943. I know that, since you discovered what I have done, you are wondering why I did it. Believe me, this is the same question that has haunted me for more than ten years now. I hope that this letter might, at least in part, answer to your question.
The 21st of October 1943 is one of the days that will be forever impressed in my memory. Most of the days just pass without any meaning, but there are some days that completely change your life: that Friday was one of these.
I remember walking through the hallway of our old house, before stopping right in front of your bedroom. Your skeletal body was lying on the mattress. I came closer

You were just four years old, so you probably don’t. It was properly furnished once, and full of toys. A white nightstand was placed beside your bed, on which there was a book that I used to read you every night; then, next to the nightstand, there was the rocking horse that your father made you before you were even born. As my eyes were wandering around that now empty room, I felt ashamed: in 1943 there were just a mattress and a drawer. I sold everything that I could sell to make some money. Money meant food and food meant hope. Not that I had much hope left at that time, but you gave me hope, you still do. I couldn’t let you

We are dehumanized, we think like animals and only two things matter: life and death. We will do whatever it takes to survive. War corrupts people’s soul. I was afraid that knowing that his father was buried under several meters of snow, God knows where in Russia, would have changed my precious boy forever.
That’s the reason I did what I have done. I have lost my father during the African campaign, my husband during the Russian one, and I did not want to lose my son during the Nazi invasion. I wasn’t able to protect them, but it has been my duty to protect you since the day you were born.
Do you know what the difference between men and women is during a war? Nobody gives us guns to protect ourselves. We stay home, but we are not far from violence and sufferance. We are even forced to witness our children’s death. How cruel is