Thank you for everything. I knew after about a week in your household that you were a special person. It’s not easy to be a foster kid or a foster parent. But, working with you made it very easy and enjoyable. When I arrived to your house in January of 1939 I had no idea how to read or write. At my brother’s funeral I found something that I thought was significant. It was a little book that the grave digger dropped that I stole. A few nights later I noticed it was gone from under my bed and that you had it. When you found this little book I had no idea how happy it would make me. You taught me to read and write so I could read the grave digger’s book. Then, I finally wrote a letter to my mom whom I have not heard from in a while. You were there for me when she never wrote back because for all we knew, she disappeared. When I heard about that book burning to celebrate Hitler’s birthday it disgusted me. I found out what Hitler’s true goals were and why my family was targeted. You were a great role model advising me not to speak my true opinions about Hitler or I would have been killed immediately. This made me realize that you will always be there for me, and others as well. Without your helps the Nazi’s would have found Max and killed him immediately. It wasn’t your fault that you had to let Max go, in fear of the house being searched. We would all have been beaten badly and killed. It was a way of watching out for us, which made me feel safe.
I was very worried when you had to join the military after giving a starving Jewish man bread. When I heard you broke your leg I felt terrible but I was also happy because you got to come back home. There was a lot going on in my life when all of this was happening. It was around this time where I told myself I would give up books and all the stealing from Mrs. Herman’s library. Then she gave me a blank book, it was my time to write a book. I titled it The Book Thief and begun writing in the basement. Our street was bombed while I was writing in the basement. Everyone that I have ever loved, passed away. I had nowhere to go and nobody to be with. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I dropped my book immediately when I found out who all passed away and I didn’t care to pick it back up.
I’m writing this letter to you today to show you how much you impacted my life and I wouldn’t be where I am now without you. I have a wonderful family and I have lived a wonderful life, but there is still a dark cloud over my head about what happened the day you passed and what happened to my book. It turns out somebody did in fact pick up my book. It was death itself. Although I am writing this letter in Heaven I want to inform you what happened during my last moments on earth. Death gave me my book moments before I passed away in exchange for my soul. This made me think, were you death? Did you pick up my book when you died in our home the day of the bombing? Was this a sign? You knew what was important to me in my life and that it’s only fitting that my last moments alive I had my first true love in my arms, my book. If you were death, did you read my book? If so how was it?
Sincerely,
Liesel
