I used to wish I didn't have the stain of the Holocaust in my personal family history for a myriad reasons. As I get older, I've come to accept it, as part of my DNA (for it is), and to feel proud to be the granddaughter of a survivor and an extraordinary woman, my late, and great, maternal grandmother, known to all as Grandma Bobbie z"l (of blessed memory). I am in no doubt that she endured things that she never dared utter to us, her beloved and important descendants. And who in turn finds it easy to ask someone they love to recount great suffering and humiliation? The few stories she did share were very uncomfortable and difficult for her to talk about, and it was just too painful to ask her to continue. She was, without question, one of the strongest people (and women) I've ever known. I say it (and mean it) every year - I have no idea how she lived a normal life after the war. But she did.