Abraham Shapiro was animated. He was making the most of every second that night over at the home of his best friends Ole and Ingrid Pederson. The conversation was long and lively. Abraham had many details to share.
He was the only member of his family left. The others had either died, or had gone to unknown destinations. It was too risky to try and track them down right now. He had to make each moment count now. Ole and Ingrid had to know where everything was, all of his earthly possessions.
In exactly one hour, he had to say good-bye to Ole and Ingrid. He didn’t know if he’d ever see them again, since he didn’t know if his flight into exile would work.
The hour passed far too fast, they spoke of intimate things: the memories of joyful times together hiking in the mountains, studying together to prepare for their final university exams, singing in the community choir, sharing special events like birthdays and anniversaries. Attending weddings and funerals of family, friends and neighbours in the synagogue and the church.
Finally the time was up. “Good-bye and thanks for everything Ole and Ingrid. Shalom my friends,” Abraham said tearfully.
Ole and Ingrid responded, saying, “Good-bye Abraham, we will miss you. May God go with you.”
The years came and went. Ingrid had died, and Ole was in an old folks home. Every once in a while he’d think of his younger years, and his best friend Abraham—was he dead or alive? Did he escape the death camps? After all of these years, he wondered what to do with Abraham’s possessions. “Who knows how much longer I’ll be around?” Ole said to himself.
One morning, as he arrived at the breakfast table, there was a new gentleman there. “Hello Ole, long time no see,” Abraham said, as he extended his hand out to Ole in a gesture of friendship. Abraham continued: “Have I a story to tell you!”