Eugen Zuckermann died on November 24 [1997], the cancer finally accomplished what the Nazis did not. . . . He was a tailor by trade and a scholar by inclination. Neither wealth nor fame ever came his way. He never married. He was short, almost elfin, and his trousers, held high by suspenders, seemed to swallow his body up to his chest. His smile could be magically disarming, but his head was crowded with ghosts and his eyes were pools of sadness. His mother, his sister and a brother had left the world as smoke in the air above [Auschwitz]. (Bearak, 1997, p. A19) In this chapter we report on a perspective on loss that supports the way Eugen Zuckermann lived his life, remembering and telling one's story. We Part of the research reported in this chapter was supported by a Fulbright Research Award for the study of loss among Romanian women to John H. Harvey.

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