Bleeding Edge

My soul aches and wishes to mourn for a forgotten man.

He was the original Resistance Banker and the most important industrialist the German Reich killed in their bloody quest to subjugate men, peoples and nations, across the globe.

For the first time in my life I am moved to remember this person and it all happened as an “accident” of fate…

Yet now I want to remember him and to say a Kaddish for all of his 206 forgotten bones, that deserve a decent remembrance, and open that his assassins never allowed in his time to be said.

So here is a Kaddish for a great human, a decent man, and a person of quiet dignity — who also happens to be my Grandfather Constantin Crocos.

A quietly powerful man who was killed by the Gestapo, when the Nazis discovered the massive apparatus that he had created in order to save Jewish children from extermination at the hands of the SS, and how he had also financed the continuous provisioning of armaments and munitions for the Guerillas and the whole of the resistance during the second world war NAZI occupation of Greece and the Balkans…

I was reminded of this person when in a men’s mountain camping trip in the snowy Washougal mountains of the Cascades — I run into Akiva…

Akiva was a Rabbi from Oregon who became a fast friend in the wilds of the monitions.

Yet Akiva is also a rabbi that takes no shit from anyone, and yet that fateful snowy weekend, he was gutted and frazzled as he spoke to me about the SS, the Gestapo and his family lost in the Concentration camps, and fed into the NAZI ovens and gas chambers.

And he also told me about my Jewish heritage… that I did not know it even existed.

We spend a sleepless night contemplating things and being bloody angry, and it was after that sleepless & teary eyed night exchange, that the epigenetic memory of these long past events kicked in.

It was my cells and my RNA, this vast library of memories from all the generations of men that came through, that brought to me the reality that hit me like a mountain of granite crashing down upon me.

Memories of things that were left unspoken, merged with swiftly spoken words of a person whose death had happened more than two decades before I came into this world.

And it all shook me to the core.

Yet I now know that I fervently wish to remember…

And I know that I owe a debt of honor to a long lost Grandfather whom I need to mourn.

Who I must remember as this long lost hero whose return from the lands of forgetfulness and fear of reprisals has so far been delayed…

So here is a Kaddish for my grandfather Constantin, and I hope that amongst all of You — Ten Men of the Jewish faith will wish to come and join me, to say the mourners’ Kaddish prayers with me in Seattle, some time in early January of this next year to come…

Here is a psalm of the Kaddish…:

So now what remains is to pray that may the Good God bless his Eternal Soul, with everlasting Grace and Love, and to keep him near him, in the Elysian fields of Honor… that I will soon join him and feast at the King’s table as a Man among Men. an

No worries about the people here on earth, because I know that the people he saved, and all those he touched — have always loved, prayed, mourned and remembered him for the Great Soul he was.

And form hence forward — I will also remember him

Thank You dear Constantin.

Yours,

Dr Churchill

PS:

Destiny is calling…