Showcase 15

Gela Seksztajn, portrait of her husband lzrael Lichtensztejn

1.

“I know we shall not last. It is not possible to live through, to survive such horrible murders, such massacres. This is why I write this my testament. It may be that I do not deserve to be remembered, only perhaps for the courage to help with the Oneg Shabbat group, to be the one most exposed to danger, for my having hidden the entire material. To pay with my head would be a trifle. I risk my head for my beloved wife, Gela Seksztajn, and for that jewel of mine, my little daughter Margalith. I do not ask for any thanks, for any memorial, for any praise. Only to be remembered is what I wish, so that my people, my brothers and sisters overseas should know where my bones have been taken to. I wish my wife should be remembered, Gela Seksztajn, talented artist, whose numerous works could not be exhibited, could not appear in the bright light [. u], At present, together with me, both of us get ready to meet and receive death. I wish my little daughter to be remembered. Margalith is 20 months old today. She has fully mastered the Yiddish language, and speaks it perfectly. [ … ]. I don’t lament my own life nor that of my wife. I pity only the so little, nice and talented girl. She too deserves to be remembered.”

lzrael Lichtensztejn, My Testament, July 31st, 1942

2.

“Poised on the border between life and death, more certain that I won’t live than that I shall, I wish to take leave of my friends and works […], I seek no praise, I merely wish that some trace remain of my name and the name of my daughter, the talented little girl Margalith Lichtensztajn [ … ]. I bequeath my work to the Jewish Museum which will be established in the future in order to recreate pre-war Jewish cultural life up to the year 1939, and to study the terrible tragedy of the Jewish community in Poland during the war. [ … ]. Now I am calm. I must perish but I have done my share, I am trying to preserve some trace of my works. Farewell, friends and comrades, farewell Jewish people. Don’t allow such ruin to recur”.

Gela Seksztajn, My Will, July 31st, 1942