It lives on. Generation after generation, decade after decade: the dying didn't die with the Nazis. The dying, the lying, the horror and the hatred, all live on. The violence, the hate circles the earth still. It remains with us. And in this story from Michael Hickins, as he uncovers his past when learning about his family that no one's ever told him, we learn from him; we see what was sundered remains broken - generation after generation. What do we learn? The loss, the pain, the broken marriages and shattered relationships start in Germany, then an escape to France, the Netherlands, to Cuba and then New York, then further. And decades later, the loss, the pain, lives on inside him too, his failed marriages - the rage that he can barely keep bottled up. But by the end of this story Hickins finds himself in a different place. Along the way he's met some upright people, and learned about acts of heroism and goodness during those years of utter darkness, directly responsible for his very existence. And he's learned something else: "... not forgiving yourself at all is the best way of passing the behavior down to future generations. I may be inexcusable, but I have to forgive myself for the sake of my children. At least that's what I tell myself. "