Part of being back home, and frankly LIVING at home, is sharing thew duties. So this morning I helped my mother going through my fathers` books. We found few books that were printed in Lithuania in 1923, in Vilnius. We found a book about trains my mother received for her 4th birthday from her uncle, he bought it in London for her as a special gift. Books my father received for his Bar Mitzva, one of the signed by Menachem Begin, and many other gems.
It made me feel sad, getting to think about my father from the angle of the books he left behind him, and then I found a photo - its of my father and his classmates, I think they are around the age of 10. But I cannot recognize him, there is one boy there that looks slightly resembles my brother. I will ask my aunt if it is/was my father.

Recommendation for the next generations: circle yourself and avoid confusion.