The book is written and published in Hebrew. When I first read the manuscript written by my beloved 91-year-old aunt Rena, I felt that I was holding in my hands not just a family story, but a document imbued with soul — filled with the breath of time, the voices of past generations and the warm light of love for one's roots. Rena devoted many years to preserving for us — the next generation — the most precious asset of all: memory. The memory of those who came before us, who bequeathed to us not only their names but also their values, their fate and their spirit. In a world where we are used to measuring success by numbers, titles and buildings, real success is the kind whose fruits ripen even after we are gone. This book is such a success. As long as there is someone who will read, remember and retell — this book goes on living. Why did I decide to translate the book into Hebrew? The answer is at once simple and profound: so that memory does not become silence. My grandchildren and great-grandchildren, like many children in the families of former Soviet immigrants, no longer read Russian. Their language is Hebrew, their world is Israel. But without roots, no branch can grow tall. I believe with all my heart that knowing one's family history makes a person stronger, more grounded and gives them a sense of belonging.