The Last Car on the Bridge: A Father’s Message to His Only Surviving Child

Batya Berg, the daughter of Rabbi Yehuda Leib Meizlik, shares a deeply moving story about her father, of blessed memory. Her parents lost seven children during the horrors of the Holocaust. Batya, the youngest, was the only one who survived. Six sons were murdered at the Babi Yar massacre, and another daughter was killed during the war after being forcibly conscripted into the Red Army.

Batya recounts the story in her book Kol B’dmama Nishma.

“One summer day in 1960, on a Thursday, I returned home from work as usual and found my father waiting for me in the yard. He suggested that we take a short walk together along the Dnieper River.”

The two walked toward the wide river that cuts the city of Kyiv in two. They rented a small rowboat and drifted slowly downstream toward the outskirts of the city. As the boat moved quietly along the water, her father began to speak.

A Conversation About Eternity

“A person must always live with the clear awareness that every passing day brings him closer to death,” her father told her. “True, this process moves slowly, but no one escapes the destiny that awaits every human being.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“When a person feels the need to speak about something important, something connected to eternity, he should not postpone it. No one knows his final hour.”

Then he looked directly at his only surviving child.

“I want you to be my Kaddish and my monument.”

Batya listened quietly.

“You know, Batya’leh,” he continued, “I had wonderful sons. I taught them Torah with devotion and raised them with faith in Hashem. I endured suffering and humiliation in order to fulfill the mitzvot and live according to the Torah.”

“But Heaven decreed otherwise. I will leave this world without even a son to say Kaddish for me. Therefore I ask you to be my Kaddish and my monument. This is the last wish that remains from all my hopes.”

Batya asked gently, “Father, Kaddish is a prayer. Perhaps even though I am a daughter I can say Kaddish for you. But what do you mean when you say you want me to be your monument?”

The True Monument

Her father answered softly.

“You misunderstood my meaning. A monument is not a stone or a marble slab placed over a grave. Those only mark where a person is buried.”

“A person’s true monument is the good deeds he performs throughout his life. It is the upright path he follows. And it is also the good deeds of his children after him. All of that becomes the eternal monument that remains for generations.”

He then added something that deeply moved Batya.

“I do not need to instruct you to keep Shabbat or to eat kosher. Those are not my commands. Those are the commandments of the Creator that were given to our people at Mount Sinai.”

“But there is one thing I ask of you.”

He looked at her with great seriousness.

“Conduct yourself in such a way that anyone who meets you will say, ‘Look, that is the daughter of Rabbi Yehuda Leib Meizlik.’”

“That will be my monument.”

The Merit of Children

Her father continued.

“Our sages teach that children can bring merit to their parents. Even a wicked man can be saved through the righteousness of his son. Through your good deeds and upright behavior you can elevate my soul.”

“Therefore I ask you not to do anything that would cause them to remove me from Gan Eden.”

“And the more you strive to live as a proper Jewish daughter should, the higher my soul will rise in the World of Truth.”

His voice trembled slightly.

“If the yetzer hara tries to tempt you, remember that one small moment of weakness could undo the toil of an entire lifetime.”

The Bridge of Generations

Then he pointed toward the great bridge that stretched across the Dnieper River.

“Look at that bridge,” he said. “Hundreds of workers labored to build it. Engineers, technicians, and laborers all invested enormous effort until the bridge was complete.”

“But before they receive their payment, the bridge must be tested. They send heavy freight cars across it one after another to see if it can bear the load.”

He described the tension of the workers watching the test.

“Thirty cars cross safely. Thirty one. Thirty two. The workers breathe with relief as each one passes.”

“Then the final car begins to cross. If the bridge holds, the builders receive their reward and their honor.”

“But imagine that when the last car reaches the middle, the bridge collapses. All the cars fall into the river. In one moment the entire effort of all the workers is destroyed.”

He turned again to his daughter.

“So it is with the bridge of generations. From Avraham Avinu until today, our ancestors carried the Torah and remained faithful through every hardship.”

“But if the final link fails, the entire chain could collapse.”

Batya listened as her father spoke with deep emotion.

“You are the last car in the line of our family,” he told her. “All the generations before you are watching and hoping you will continue the path of Torah and faith.”

“If the yetzer hara tells you that everyone else is abandoning the path, answer it like this: my father, my grandfather, and all my ancestors served Hashem faithfully. I cannot allow the chain to end with me.”

“If these thoughts guide your life, then with Hashem’s help you will overcome every test.”

His Final Words

Batya concludes her story with heartbreaking words.

“That very night, after our walk along the Dnieper, my father suffered a stroke.”

“For four days he struggled between life and death. Then his pure soul returned to its Creator.”

But the message he left behind continued to live within her.

A daughter who became both his Kaddish and his monument.