Dear Mom and Dad,

As my birthday approaches once again, I find myself thinking about the journey that brought me into this world — your journey. It's a story that has lived quietly in my heart for years, but as I reflect on it today, I realize how deeply your courage shaped who I am. 

In 1943, you escaped the unimaginable, crossing the Alps into Switzerland to find refuge. Many don't realize that there were labor camps in Switzerland, but that was your reality — not freedom, but the fragile safety of survival. And yet, even there, you never stopped hoping for a better future. 

Dad, your entrepreneurial spirit never wavered. You dreamed of rebuilding, of creating something lasting for your family. You knew that in Belgium many opportunities, including business ownership, were tied to citizenship, and you wanted that future for us. So in late 1944, believing the war was nearing its end, you made the brave decision to return home — with Mom seven months pregnant and my brother not yet two years old. 

But history intervened. On that journey back, you were caught in the middle of the Battle of the Bulge near St. Vith — one of the fiercest and most desperate clashes of the war, where American resistance helped slow the German advance. Forced to turn back once again, you climbed the Alps a second time to return to Switzerland, where, in a labor camp near Lausanne, I was born. 

On my birth certificate, it simply says "Lausanne, Switzerland" as my place of birth — but behind those few words is a story of escape, war, and extraordinary courage. 

I often think about that: that I entered the world surrounded by both struggle and immense strength. Without realizing it, you had already given me the foundation of my life — courage, hope, perseverance, and faith that light can emerge even from the darkest places. 

Today, when I look around at the uncertainty of our world, I draw strength from your story. You remind me that resilience doesn't always announce itself through triumph or celebration. Sometimes it's simply in the act of moving forward, of believing that there is a path — even when it's hidden by snow, war, or fear. 

Thank you for that legacy. Thank you for the courage that flows quietly through me because of you. On this Holocaust Remembrance, and on my birthday, I honor you both — for the life you gave me, and for the spirit that continues to guide every step I take. 

Avec tout mon amour et ma gratitude,

Votre fille, Monette