92YearOld Grandmother Totally destroys the violin Everyone Is Stunned

My name is Miriam Goldstein. I am 92 years old and this, this violin is the last piece of my childhood that still exists. I was born in Warsaw, Poland in 1932. I was a little girl who loved to play in the streets, who danced when it rained, who believed the world was good. I had a mother, her name was Rivka. She sang lullabies to me in Yiddish. I had a father, his name was Moshe. He taught me how to read and I had a little brother. His name was David. He was only six. In 1942, when I was 10 years old, the soldiers came. They took my family. They put us on a train and when the train stopped, we were in Auschwitz. My mother and my brother were taken from me the moment we arrived. They walked in one direction. I walked in another. I never saw them again. I was alone, a little girl surrounded by death and then they found out I could play the violin. The Nazis made me play for them. They would gather in their uniforms, laughing, drinking and they would tell me, play something beautiful and so I played. I played while men, women and children walked past me to their deaths. I played while the smoke rose into the sky. I played while my fingers bled, while my stomach ached from hunger. I played because if I stopped, I would die too. For many years after the war, I could not touch this violin. The sound of it haunted me. I would wake up at night and still hear the notes I played as people screamed. It was not music to me. It was a ghost. But then one day, my granddaughter found it in the attic. She brought it to me and said, Bubby, play for me and I realized this violin was never meant to belong to evil men. Music does not belong to those who destroy. It belongs to those who remember, to those who love, to those who survive. So tonight, I do not play because I am forced to. I do not play for men who drank and laughed while my people suffered. I play for my mother, who sang to me. I play for my father, who taught me how to read. I play for my brother, who never had the chance to grow up. I play so that they are never forgotten. Good luck. you