Abraham was six months old, or perhaps a little more. The child had fever and he was sent to Malben Hospital in Pardes Katz, and the hospital asked to keep him for monitoring.
A few days later, my cousin Tamar who lived with us, said they received a phone call to come to take the boy. They went to the hospital, but were told that the child had died dead. They provided no body and no death certificate.
They also said they buried him. Mother went into a very deep crisis. Fortunately, my cousin Tamar was there to help.
The military police would come every few years to look for him. They looked for him everywhere: under the beds, in the closets, Where do they not look? My father wrote letters and he was repeatedly given different burial locations.
All my life I have imagined that one day he will come to us. I ask myself what he looks like, and who he might resemble... I have great anxiety because of this. It has impacted my life. When the children were even a bit late I would panicked. That's why I think the country has all these troubles. It was born in grievous sin.