History of Sorts

Dear Mr. Otto Frank,

I write this letter with the humility and deep respect that one father extends to another. However, though no words can ever truly capture the weight of what you have endured. As a father of three children myself, I can only begin to imagine the depth of love, worry, and hope you must have carried through those years, even as the world around you fell apart. You faced unthinkable horrors that no parent should ever face. Yet, your strength has carried the legacy of your beloved daughters forward, touching lives across the world.

To lose a child—no, to lose both—is a grief so profound that it seems to defy the natural order of life. But to witness their suffering and to endure the uncertainty of their fate must have been a burden that tested the very limits of the human spirit. And yet, even in the midst of that darkness, you preserved Anne’s words. Through her voice, you have given the world something infinitely precious: a window into the heart of a young girl who, despite all that was taken from her, never lost her yearning for life, love, and a better future.

Your daughters, Anne and Margot, were extraordinary in their own ways. I hope you find some comfort in knowing that their memory has become a beacon of hope and remembrance. Anne’s words, which have resonated in the hearts of millions, are not only a testament to her brilliance but to the values you instilled in her—her compassion, her unyielding spirit, and her boundless curiosity about the world. In her diary, Anne becomes the voice of all those silenced too soon, and through her, we are reminded of the preciousness of life, even in its most fragile form.

Margot, though quieter in her legacy, no doubt possessed her own light. You described her as diligent and thoughtful, a young woman of grace and intellect. While history may know her less intimately than Anne, she, too, carried within her the promise of a future that was unjustly stolen. As a father, I know that each of our children is unique, holding within them a piece of us yet blossoming into something entirely their own. I imagine Margot to have been the embodiment of quiet strength, the kind of daughter whose presence brought comfort even in the hardest times.

It is one of life’s cruelties that Anne and Margot did not live to see the world beyond those harrowing years. But in their short lives, they reflected the beauty and potential that you and Edith nurtured in them. Their legacy continues to inspire new generations, reminding us of the dangers of hatred and the enduring power of love and memory.

Mr. Frank, your courage in preserving Anne’s diary—despite the unbearable pain it must have caused you—has granted the world a gift beyond measure. You took the heartbreak of a father and transformed it into a message of resilience, hope, and remembrance. You have given parents like me a way to speak to our children about compassion, tolerance, and the importance of standing against injustice.

I do not know what it feels like to bear the grief you carry, but I hold my own children a little closer, knowing how fragile the threads of life can be. Your daughters are not just figures of history but reminders of the vitality, humor, and dreams of all children. They lived, they loved, and they mattered—forever etched in the fabric of humanity.

From one father to another, thank you for having the strength to share Anne and Margot with the world and for reminding us all of the sanctity of every life.

With deepest sympathy and respect,
A fellow father