Open up to any given page, and your eyes will begin to swell with tears. Your throat clenches, making it impossible to hold back your emotions. Some times, you have to close the book and set it down for a moment. Other times, you have to dissociate and read through the words quickly while still trying to grasp their intent.

The book is …I never saw another butterfly… Children’s Drawings and Poems from Terezin Concentration Camp, 1942-1944. Yom HaZikaron laShoah ve-laGvura - Remembrance Day for the Holocaust and Heroism -, known as Yom HaShoah across the world, arrives shortly after Passover. We have just celebrated our Exodus from Mitzrayim (Egypt) and our subsequent freedom. What a poignant time to recall those who have perished and those who survived the Holocaust.

…I never saw another butterfly… is a book reflecting the perspective of children, and I am profoundly changed each time I pick it up. It is immensely sad to read of the beauty that existed in the midst of these terrible conditions. It is enough to make one pause over our own self-pity and find strength from the children who found splendor and meaning in the most disgraceful conditions imaginable.

But, there it is - on page 8 – a picture of a vase filled with beautiful flowers on a back drop of colorful striped walls. The flowers all stand upright in the pot and – to me – symbolize hope and the ability to still see the beauty in life. If one looks closely, you can see the one flower drooping in the vase – dark in color – but it is the color and the life of the other flowers that stands out in this picture.

And, then there are others. A poem titled “I AM A JEW” where our young narrator acknowledges the difficulties the Jews are facing and, yet, asserts his or her decision to die hungry if need be – but to remain a Jew. The poem is next to a picture of a dark night with a sailboat sailing on dark waters. The sliver of moon is yellow and in the bottom corner of the paper, where there is still white paper, there is a candle. The candle is black and its flame – too – is dark with despair. And, yet, there is hope and strength.

The children of Terezin were lucky, if such a word can even apply to the situation of a concentration camp. The children were afforded teachers in this camp, and the teachers defied the rules bringing the children art supplies and lessons to help them deal with the disorder in their lives. Terezin was a camp built for political propaganda to hide the true acts of the Nazis. In the end, 15,000 people died and fewer than 200 survived. But, their drawings and poems live on and reading this book on Yom HaShoah is one way to pay homage to both those who perished and those who survived.

There are other things we can do. We can educate ourselves and teach our children. We can attend community gatherings that may include movies of Holocaust heroes, reading of names, or a Holocaust survivor speaking to the community. We can become involved with the National Association of Holocaust Survivors or local agencies that ensure the Holocaust will not be forgotten. And, I suppose the greatest tribute we can pay to those who perished and those who survived the Holocaust is to honor our Jewish faith.