These three pictures represent the few pictures that my family have of the lives they lost in 1944. The man in the center picture was affected the most since he ended up fighting against all kinds of people. it affected him so much that he couldn't speak of the war, nor of his lost past.
The others would simply side with him and say I don't remember, and in the end so much was lost. The pictures are the link to the past, and helped open a few doors before it was to late. none of them are dead, but as with all people age has blurred their memories of the events and the dates, a blessing of sorts.
So much was lost during the war, their homes, their culture, and often people they loved. Husbands, brothers, and cousins. Now, it is a race against time to tell of the Transylvania that these people loved.
One where the music mixed with the songs of birds, where the air was fresh and the children could play in the creeks. They tell of the Hungarians and Romanians who lived with them in the village and their cultures and songs vibrating through the night with their festivals. How many of the people of the village might intermarry between the cultures and this allowed for a blossoming of a newer version of the cultures that the parents came from.
Almost all gone. But not yet.
My grandparents remember the stories of their grandparent's grandparent's. I fear if I don't write them down, no one will remember them after I'm gone. So, by writing about these people and their way of life, Rebecca, you're really keeping the past alive in the best and most vivid of ways.