No, it was a homecoming, but without those most beloved souls. The war had already set the destiny. They were dead in Gas chambers. And, when he scanned the records a few days after, he could only be shocked again to learn that they died suffocating on the day his father had his seventieth birthday.
If you want to cry aloud, read what Goudsmit himself wrote about it :
“The house was still standing. But as I drew near to it I noticed that all the windows were gone. Parking my jeep around the corner so as to avoid attention I climbed through one of the empty windows…..
Climbing into the little room where I had spent so many hours of my life I found a few scattered papers, among them my high school report cards that my parents had saved so carefully through all these years. If I closed my eyes I could see the house as it used to look thirty years ago. Hear was the glassed-in porch which was my mother’s favourite breakfast nook. There was the corner where the piano always stood. Over there had been my bookcase. What had happened to the many books I had left behind? The little garden in back of the house looked sadly neglected. Only the lilac tree was still sanding……”
That’s all before we move out for the vacation….