The sneer of Valkyrie

                VICTORIA BLINDER

                English translation: Irene Milner

               
            The sorrow of deep and quiet souls is hovering over the steppe
            A song of eternal sadness, bottomless, silent and poignant
            A story of the past – and the dark secrets of what is yet to come
            The following days...
                Shaul Tchernichovsky (Abraham's Testament)

Valkyrie: In the Norse mythology – maiden, who flies on a winged horse above the battlefield, picks up the dying soldiers and takes them to the heavenly courts. One of the main opera characters by Wagner "The Ring of the Nibelung" – the flight of Valkyrie. 

               
                Chapter 1

    My God! If only someone knew how much I love autumn. It is true, that September in Jerusalem differs from the feelings of autumn. Yellow and orange trees, the rustling rug of leaves under my feet- my last memory of my childhood in Budapest. It is strange, but I barely remember the city, and vaguely imagine our street and home…I do not remember much, but this is not quite true – I do remember faces – my mother, grandma, father, sisters and Yankale – the youngest brother – my parents' hope. He was only thirteen in that last autumn, and I was fifteen. Many people then used to think that we were twins. Maybe because I was thin and short like my mother and Yankale looked older than his age – much like our father. If only he had the chance to grow up, he would be even bigger and higher than our father was. Probably…
Oh, what a joy when the summer heat changes into a pleasant coolness.
Lately, the main news in my life – are weather reports. It seems that my life mostly consists of working days and Saturdays, autumns, winters, springs and summers…
However, I have more fortune than that. Three years ago, I met Mirale, the neighbor girl, who came to live here to study at a university. She was only twenty then. Actually, her name is Miriam. In Paris, her hometown, everyone called her Mari. I could never really understand her parents. How could they let her leave the family and move to a new and strange city on her own? No one should be alone; it is unnatural.
My God, I am so happy that they let her go. Three years ago, she became my neighbor next door on the same floor. I fell in love with this girl even before I met her. That evening when her parents, who bought the apartment, came to visit me. They were the ones who told me that they bought the apartment for their daughter. She will come to Jerusalem after the New Year's holiday, for she is willing to study here, she wants to move away from the anti-Semitism.
It was quite strange for me that they still prefer to stay in Paris and let their child leave alone.
It is very difficult. We have a successful business there – two stores. What will we do here? For our girl it is better to be here, live for a while, get to know the surrounding and, maybe, with the help of God, she will find a good husband and settle down.
Who knows, said Jackeline…and then she showed me a photo of her daughter.
Then it happened, I fell in love with that girl from the first sight. 
I was waiting for Mirale after Rosh Hashanah eve, but she came only after Sukkot holidays. Her mother joined her for the first two weeks and helped her with all the needed arrangements. She asked me to look after Mirale from time to time. Since then, three years have passed…Three years ago, my loneliness ended. Mirale gave me a reason to feel alive again, although I am already seventy. When people talk about my age, they are always very surprised. When I was fourteen, I looked ten, now I look more like fifty or fifty-five. I would be more than happy to believe it myself, but then it would mean that I was born after the war and the number on my left hand, which I have since I was fifteen, reminded me differently. When I was sixteen, I was born again, maybe this is the reason why I look young, as if I was only fifty-five – the number of years passed since then. In fact, I chose my name at the same time. Until the age of fifteen, I only had a childish name, then I had a number and at the age of sixteen, I became Hannah... I barely remember the day of release. Except emptiness, I could not feel anything, by that time it seemed that my soul was dead inside my body. Why did God let me survive, will always remain a mystery for me. This was my fate… I remember a young man with the same striped clothing came to me and asked,
What is your name? – and then after a long period of time I replied – Hannah
I am Michai.
Why did he talk Yiddish? Perhaps he felt the voice of blood. Since that day until the last day of his life we were never apart, we lived together thirty-eight years. Michai was only three years older than me, but I looked like a teenager next to him. After the release, he decided to be responsible for me. He always knew what to do and I never argued. From the first moment and until the last minute of his life, I always felt good and confident with him. No matter what happened, I was secure next to him. Michai was born in Transylvania, and I am from Budapest, which means that before the war we lived close to each other. Who knows, without the war we may not have met at all.
For some reason, I have so many memories today. Maybe because the store is empty? The store – such a big part of my life. Michai and I rented it in the middle of 60's, then, gradually we purchased it from its owners. In the store, we had many things for sewing and knitting, in addition to childrens’ handmade clothing, which I knitted to make myself busy. Sometimes, housewives bring me their sweaters and I help them sell it. Good sweaters always sold immediately. I usually put them at the shop window so that they can find their buyer faster. Their price is a bit higher than regular machine knitting, but they are more beautiful. So today, as usual I wait for Ida. Now it is six o'clock, she will probably come near seven, when I close the store, we will have time to drink some coffee. Here at the corner of Jaffa and King George Street, in the center of the city...
Once, in a different life, my mother had a salon for evening dresses. My mother knew how to sew and knit and tried to teach us since our childhood. I have to admit that my sisters were so much better than me. I was attached to my father. He was a journalist, handsome, eloquent and well educated – people were always attracted to him like a magnet. He did not earn a lot of money, so it was difficult to maintain a large family. Therefore, my mother got into the picture. She was a very capable person, so she opened her own tiny atelier, which after a few years became a very big and popular salon. No one ever imagine that such fragile woman could be so successful and hard working. My sisters always helped her by working days and nights. I was the only one who always tried to avoid the work by escaping to read books. I hated needles and threads so much. After so many years and all the horrors of the concentration camps that I have been through, I suddenly felt that I want to be surrounded with cloths, laces, needles, and threads as if they could bring me back to my lost childhood. Then I remembered everything that my mother taught me.
The store was always perfectly organized. Michai used to take care of it in the past. After his death, I had to take control of it. But, each evening when I came back home, sat in front of his picture and told him everything about what happened during that day. We were so close, that even death did not separate us. Unfortunately, we did not have any children. We decided not to find out who was to blame and what the reason was. Michai told me then, that the war was the main reason for it, and both of us had numbers on our hands to remind us... We lived our lives peacefully trying to be unnoticed. We had acquaintances, but did not have any lifelong friends, for the similar past that we shared and kept us distant. The only friend Michai had since then was shot in 1948 during Altalena Affair. Michai was supposed to join him as well to get the weapon, but was afraid to leave me alone. This saved him. Since then, many years have passed, and the question why one brother fought against the other still remains a mystery. The Altalena already had a white flag on it but the fire from the shore against the wounded continued. Mordechai was shot in the water. On his funeral, Michai told me that if justice exists, the person responsible for Altalena will also find his death by a bullet. And so it happened. But, Michai did not get to see it, for one night he passed away in his sleep. His heart stopped beating. I thought it was unfair that I outlived him. What for? We were supposed to leave this world together...
Finally Ida came. The sweaters she brought were with amazing embroideries. Children like these clothes. It took me only a few minutes to put the clothes at the window of the store. That is it.
I invited Ida to drink some coffee. It was only ten minutes of slow walking to the café. We decided to sit outside. Ida told me that she only had one hour, which is more than enough for one cup of coffee. She is always busy – husband and four children – she barely has free time. The clothes that she knits for children are both for leisure and some extra earnings. She also draws with watercolors but never sells. Sometimes gives it as a present. I have one of her works – fantasy of autumn – it is in my store. Seven colors and moods…
Ida is a pleasant person so communicating with her is very nice. She is an optimist, despite her everyday difficulties. She is always okay and everything is fine. Now she is telling about different and funny stories from her childrens’ lives. Perhaps, if I didn’t live through the time of war, I could also be an optimist. Perhaps...
I sat in front of Ida and admired her. She was large and healthy, I guess my sisters would also be like that only if...
What is with me today?
The café was half-empty. Usually there are many people here during the afternoon and evening hours. At a table next to us sat an old man. In front of him was coffee and a piece of cake. He was probably waiting for someone to come. He was sitting in front of me like Ida, I could see his face, and suddenly our eyes met, and I immediately looked away. When I tried to drink my coffee, I felt his look on me. The look was no longer indifferent; in his eyes I saw horror.
My God, what made him so scared?
Perhaps he knows me from my other life, the life before war, or maybe he is just confused. No, I never met him before for sure.
I observed him carefully, and suddenly I realized the reason for such horror in his eyes. He had a number on his hand. But not just a number. A number from the same concentration camp. The difference was only one number, which means that he entered the same gate right after me...
In theory we were never supposed to meet.
Is my past trying to chase me?
Hannah. Hannah! – I heard Ida's voice.
Do you feel bad?
I did not explain anything, saying that I was tired and had a headache, I apologized, paid the bill and went back home.
If you feel bad, I can walk you home – offered Ida.
I thanked her but refused.
It was only four bus stops to my home or twenty minutes walking...
Why didn’t I ask this man something?  He is probably from Budapest as well. Perhaps he knew my family. Why was I in such a hurry to leave? Am I still afraid from the past?
The past exists on the walls of my home. The photographs of Michai, my mother, Yankale's thirteen birthday, a photo of the whole family are there.
Michai never saw these photographs of my relatives.
Ten years after his death I decided to go back to Budapest.
It turn out to be that I do not remember the city at all. I vaguely remembered the synagogue at Dohany Street. Although, our tour guide told us that it was the exact place where all Jews from Budapest gathered before their transition to the concentration camps. That means that I was there as well. My mother was a very religious person and I believe that she took us to that last prayer. Everything changed in Budapest after fifty years. I went with everyone to the Jewish quarter as if it was for the first time – strange country, strange city, strange houses...
When the group had free time, everyone went to different places and I decided to go back to Erzbetvarom.
For a long time I walked on different streets, trying to find my home, but everything seemed so strange. It seemed that I recognized one of the houses, so I walked in the café, which was in front of it. I did not know what to order so asked the waiter's recommendation, telling her that I do not eat meat.
Our special course today – cherry soup.
I ordered cherry soup. Fifty years I wasn’t in Budapest, fifty years I didn’t eat that soup. I sat at a table next to the glass window; I looked carefully on the house in front of me, which was supposed to be the house of my childhood. Then, in 1944, there was a yellow star of David on it which meant death to the people who lived there, and I somehow survived.
Szabad? – I heard. An old lady asked for my permission to sit at my table, although there were plenty of other free places. I felt uncomfortable to refuse, so I agreed and nodded my head.
She sat in front of me and observed me carefully. I told myself not to ask her what she wants of me. Actually, I noticed her even before she entered the café. She looked at me from the street. Maybe I remind her of someone? But her attention irritated me.
Tourist? – She asked. Again I shook my head for a positive replay.
Where from?
From Israel.
At this moment my soup was served. In my childhood, it was one of my favorite dishes. I forgot it during the war and never recalled it until this moment. Now in my plate was a little piece of my childhood.
I took the spoon in my right hand and immediately transferred it into the left one. I am left-handed, although my mother fought so much to change it, with no success. I raised the spoon to my mouth and felt so much joy.
Doll – quietly said the woman looking straight into my eyes.

Automatically, the spoon left my hand and as I put it back on the plate.
Suddenly everything was floating in front of my eyes; my lips were dry and I only managed to say three words.
Who are you?
Zuza, - she replied. This was the name of the girl, who helped my mother. She was hired to work when my mother already had her own salon. Zuza was responsible for house works and helped my mother at the salon. She was the same age as my older sister. Back then, in 1944, she was about 25 years old. Strange, but I do not remember how she looked like.
You look like your mother.
But you’re already older than her by twenty years.
I searched for you everywhere. I even sent requests to Israel, but with no results.
I am the only one who survived in my family, but after the war I changed my last name – like my husband's.
Are you married?
Widow.
Children?
I did not reply. What a weird conversation.
When they took you to do labor work...
To the concentration camps.
Yes, but they told us that you are going to labor work... Silviya...your mother gave me her evening bag and asked me to keep it and give it back to those who will return. I looked for anyone to give it back. Today, you returned, let's go, I live nearby.
I paid for the soup that I haven’t touched, but now I couldn’t even think of it. We turned at the corner.
Here is the home where you lived, do you recognize?
No.
After ten minutes, we entered the apartment.
Do you live alone?
With my husband. The children grew up and each one went on their own way.
I was afraid to ask too much, so I kept quiet.
Is it really possible that everyone was killed except you? Asked Zuza.
Yes. Judith came to her death on the train. They treated us as if we were cattle, we were transferred in boxcars, where we only could stand very close to each other. Judith was pregnant, she had a severe toxemia. My mother tried to support her, but fortunately, she died on the way.
Fortunately?
Yes, indeed. She avoided a very painful death.
Let's go.
We entered into the room, which was the bedroom. Zuza took out a travel bag from the closet, opened it and there was a small package.
I took it into my hands and opened it. There was my mother's evening bag, I recognized it immediately, but was afraid to open it. I sat like that for a while, until Zuza decided to unlock it – inside we found a note and a small package wrapped in cloth.
I barely understood Hungarian, and could not read the letter.
Then Zuza took the letter and started to read it.
"My loved ones! I do not know who will remain alive. I wish that these jewelries would help you built your new lives. Sell them without any regrets and leave Europe. It doesn’t like us."
On the note, I noticed a few blurry words, probably my mother cried when she wrote this letter. I opened the package, and as I imagined I saw jewelries of my grandmother, mother, my sisters' and mine. When they took us to the labor camps, we were asked to give up our money, jewelries and personal belongings. If my mother left everything with Zuza, it means that she assumed where we were going...She knew and did not say a word...
You know, - Zuza broke the silence, - after you all left I went to your apartment and took some things. Then she took out from the bag our Shabbat tablecloth, which we all made together – mother, my sisters and I. Then, she took two candlesticks, Hanukah Menorah and photographs out of the bag as well.
When I sat in front of me the faces of my mother, father, sisters and Yankale, I burst into tears.
For the first time in my entire life. In the concentration camps, they taught me with success how to avoid my feelings, and now I felt something in my soul.
Zuza tried to calm be down, but cried with me.
I cannot tell how long we sat there crying, but Zuza's husband came back from work and found two old ladies crying at his home. In the evening, Zuza came with me to the hotel. My tour guide was very worried about my long absence. I calmed him down by saying that I met someone from my childhood. I refused to continue the tour along the country, packed my things and agreed with the guide to be at the Budapest airport in three days, two hours before the flight. We left the hotel with an intention to spend the remaining days joyfully.
Oh God! What a fortune that Zuza went to buy some bread at the
same time I sat in the café. I am so grateful that she had noticed me.
You look so much like your mother, - she kept saying during the remaining three days – so much.
I don’t exactly remember now what we were talking about – I told her about my life, she told me about hers, both of us cried. The days seemed like one whole, as if time blended in. After many years, I cried, and then realized that my tears washed away the pain of my soul. Zuza told me small details from our daily life and gave me my mother's recipes – my mother was the one who taught her to cook a long time ago.
Well, at my old age and to my own surprise I got the chance to taste once more my mother's delicious dishes. I wish that Michai could live to see that.
When I left I invited Zuza to come and visit me in Israel.
She did not reply. I asked her again a few times on our phone conversations and then she admitted that it was quite expensive for them.
Then I sent them tickets, I really wanted to make her happy. I owed her so much, a debt that I could never pay back...
They came in the spring, and we had two wonderful weeks together. It was during Passover so I closed the store for ten days.
Who could believe that you would deal with needles and threads – said Zuza, after observing my store. From all your sisters you were the only one who did not want to deal with all that.
I was the most negligent, wasn’t I – I laughed.
Well... – Zuza laughed as well, - let's say that you didn’t really like this work.
My soul grew up in the shades of my tears and changed tremendously. I tried to recreate my mother's memory in me.
You should not be someone's memory, you should be yourself – she replied.
Their visit ended quickly, we did not even notice how the time passed by. After they left I started noticing different changes in myself. Eventually I realized that each person has to be attached to his roots. Now, during the evening I could talk not only to Michai, but to my parents and sisters as well. I felt relief.
Couple of years after, Mirale appeared in my life. Now, with her, I could have real conversations. Mirale – my girl, my happiness.
Each evening after school she came to visit me. We would eat dinner together and talk for hours. She would ask me about everything, and many times offered to write down all my memories.
Your story is very interesting, and people should be aware of it - she tried to convince me.
Mirale studies humanitarian sciences at the university – languages and literature.
Your life story could make an interesting novel.
So, she began to take notes during our conversation, however it is difficult to describe and imagine all the horror I have been through on a sheet of paper...
Mirale changed so much in my life, the days became more meaningful and Saturdays in particular. Often Mirale invited her friends who lived at the dorms to Saturday dinners. Their laugh made my home alive again...
Once, covering the table with the family tablecloth I showed Mirale the Star of David embroidered by me. Even though it was very different from other stars embroidered by my sisters, which were straight and smooth, my mother kept it. Perhaps she wanted to teach me a lesson and remind me of my negligence. Or maybe just because she loved me so much. Zuza claimed that I was her favorite daughter. Who knows, perhaps I survived only because of my mother's prayers?
I reached my home. What a ridiculous day...Why did I walk away? I should have asked this man, where is he from and if he remembers anyone... I believe that in my soul I am still afraid of
the past, if I ran away like that from an opportunity to find something out...Perhaps...
I stood in front of the photographs: Michai...mother, father, sisters, Yankale. And here is a new photo – Mirale and I. How beautifully she laughs...
I realize that my century is about to end. My life will always remain in the XX century with its war and the 6 million. By fortune, I did not become one of them. Now it is the last autumn of this bloody century, the autumn of 2000. In less than four month, the XXI century will begin. This will be a time of a different generation, time of Mirale. On the photograph, Mirale is wearing the earrings of my youth. It was a present for my Bat Mitzvah and I gave them to Mirale.
I offered her to take other jewelries as well but she categorically refused.
Why does an old lady like me need them?
I kept them at the bank's safe, for it is a big fortune, and I was afraid to keep them at home. Then I took Mirale to a lawyer, although she objected, and made testament for her in case of my death. Perhaps, one day, when I will no longer be here, her parents will leave Paris and come to live here. Then they will have their own functional store. They must not leave the girl alone, must not... 
I set the table. In a while, she will be back. As usual, the table will be set and the door unlocked for her. She once made a confession, and told me how grateful she is for every evening that someone waits for her to come...
I am grateful as well for... I put cheese and salads on the table and decided to lie down for a while. Pancakes should be warmed up right before eating. I had another half an hour to rest.
I lied down, closed my eyes a bit. Suddenly I saw my mother in front of me. She caressed my head and disappeared. I saw Michai, he approached me and held out his hands. How much I missed his warmth. I have so much to say to him...
I stretched my hands to him as well, and we met. I was so close to him...
At the same time, Mirale entered. I saw her from above. She came close to me, and for some reason began to scream and held the phone... I didn’t know how to calm her down. I didn’t understand why she was crying, when I felt so good...
This day was so hard, it seemed that today all my life flashed in front of my eyes like a moment... I caressed her hair, but she did not notice and kept crying...
Don’t worry my dear, everything passes... This is what King Solomon said.
Everything goes away, just remind yourself of me from time to time...Michai...
I came so close to him. My God, I am so happy to see him. I knew that one day he would call me again...
Michai, I am on my way to you... 

               

                Chapter 2



         My God! If only someone knew how much I love autumn. It is true, that September in Jerusalem differs from the feelings of autumn. Yellow and orange trees, the rustling rug of leaves under my feet- my last memory of my childhood in Budapest. Autumn in New York where I lived for the rest of my life was similar in some ways but still different. Here, in Jerusalem, autumn is not the same. Today I woke up and saw the sun rise. The mountains of Jerusalem at this time are very special. When the pink rays of the rising sun lights the land with divine brightness, it seems so obvious that something special exists here so close to us.
When I woke up, everyone was still asleep, so I met the dawn in solitude.
An hour later, the whole house was awake. Rivki and Benny are going to work. Both of them are surgeons. Benny is a cardiologist and Rivki is a gynecologist. They studied together at the same university and now work at the same hospital. They go exactly at seven o'clock, and at seven and a half the school bus arrives and takes the younger children to school. The eldest, Mordechai, studies in Bar-Ilan University and lives in Ramat-Gan. He did not follow his parents’ careers and went to study mathematics. Then there are twins Shelly and Danny – both are still in the army, now they are paramedics but dream of becoming doctors. Shelly wants to be a pediatrician and Danny wishes to become a surgeon. Issaskhar – was the first one that was born in Israel – real sabra, he studies in a military religious school and wishes to become a professional fighter. They usually come back home on the weekends. Rivki has seven children – three boys and four girls. Their house is always full of laughter. Rohale and I admire our daughter...
Today's dawn is quite special – surreal colors and the feeling of calmness were felt from the mountains...
I feel good in Rivki's house. She tries to convince me to leave New York and come to live here near the mountains of Jerusalem. She does not realize how difficult it is for me to leave my home for good, the home where I lived my third life. Third...
My first life was in Budapest. First, happy childhood and youth, then, a marriage with my beloved wife, and finally, like a miracle – the waiting for our first child. Our inheritor was supposed to be born in December of 1944. We counted the date after Ganna announced to me that she was pregnant in March. We were so excited about our firstborn... The pregnancy was quite easy and it made us happy, although first time – anything could happened. However, at the end of June we were moved to a house with a yellow star. I tried to calm Ganna down by saying that everything is going to be all right. We heard rumors that the Russian army is quite close and we had a hope that they will save us soon. Unfortunately, some hopes do not come true... At the end of October, we were informed that we are transferred to the labor camps. A day before, we all gathered in the synagogue on the Dohany Street and prayed, prayed, prayed...
And in the morning...
I do not even want to recall, I am so afraid to go back to that time, although I don’t remember anything but the train station, boxcars and the fear in my wife's eyes. The wait was very long. Ganna could not stand for such a long time, and the tightness of people caused a premature birth. There were doctors among us but they did not manage to save her or the child. I even did not get the chance to bury them. Like cattle, we were forced out of the train and left them there. Ganna was not the only one who did not survive this ride. I said goodbye forever to her and to my son. Then, for the first time I turned to him, blaming and asking – Where are you God?
The response was silence... This is how my first life ended, and the second one began...
My younger granddaughter approached me, Ruti, and invited me to eat breakfast. Her English is not that good and she always prefers to speak Hebrew, although she knows that I barely understand anything in that language. I remember with difficulty only certain words.
Here is grandpa – she announced to her mother.
Dad, sit down. – Rivki served me my breakfast and immediately asked one of the girls to make me some coffee.
Make it light.
Dad, we must go. Benny is on duty tonight and I will be back around eight or nine maybe a bit earlier.
I will come to meet you.
But, I don’t know for sure when I am going to leave the hospital.
I will be waiting for you from seven o'clock at the café, when you finish find me there.
See you then - Rivki kissed me goodbye and ran to the car, Benny was already waiting for her.
I stayed with the girls for breakfast. They talked about something quietly.
Then, Lea, the eldest asked me.
Grandpa, can you tell us about concentration camps? But please don’t say mom that we asked, she does not allow us to disturb you. Tell us what you want.
Of course, I will, if you are interested.

We are very interested, both of them replied – we will tell about it at school on the
"Yom Ha Shoa" (Holocaust Memorial Day).
I understand very little in Hebrew but this phrase was familiar to me. This was a memorial day of the six million people who were killed including my parents, sisters, brothers, their families, and most importantly, Ganna and my son, whom I did not get to know and raise. Many years ago when Rohale and I came to Israel for the first time, even before travelling in the country, we visited Yad Va Shem museum and filled out blanks regarding our relatives who were gone forever. I was not sure then whether I should write my son or not, he was only alive for a few minutes and didn’t even go through brit (circumcision). He was not... Still I decided to fill a blank for him... I named him Izik-Issak-Itzhak a son of Abraham. I wrote that he lived for 40 minutes, although I knew he was in this world for even less than that. He came and at the same time was gone. Ganna and Izik my never-ending pain...
Grandpa, why don’t you eat? – I heard the voice of my granddaughters.
Both kissed me goodbye and ran towards the bus.
I stepped out to the garden; the smell of the roses was so pleasant. I took the newspaper with me, each evening after work Rivki brings me "Jerusalem Post", but today I was not willing to read. I reminded myself about my conversation with my granddaughters this morning.
My "sunshines" wanted to know about the months I spent at the concentration camp. Why would they want to ruin their happy childhood, why do they need to know about strangers' pain and tears? Life continues, and the pain should remain to people like me. I will never forget it, even if I wanted to, the sign on my hand reminds me always... A sign of my second life... It lasted for seven months but lived inside of me for many years after...
What a wonderful morning…..
The sun, the scent of flowers along with the charming beauty at the beginning of autumn. Why am I so nostalgic today? All these memories that I always try to avoid, am I getting too old?
The girls ask me to tell them about the life in the concentration camps. I cannot call it life not even an existence... I entered my second life as a young man named Bella. At the first hours, I lost my wife and son, then I lost my name and transformed into a number. During the seven months in Auschwitz, I have been through seven circles of hell. I talked to myself, reminded myself my name to make sure I still exist. Each day I watched enviously at the smoke that came out of the furnaces. I wanted to walk away from this reality like that gray smoke. Some claim that Orpheus was the only one who entered the hell to get Eurydice and stayed alive. No one returns from hell. But, I am a living evidence of that. Orpheus was not the only one. You can return from hell. However, there is a slight difference between us – he entered there by his own will and I found myself there because of my destiny. I was not the only one – there were millions like me. This hell killed physically and destroyed emotionally, which is even worse. It tries to kill your soul even before your body...How horrifying it is...you cannot forget...or ever forgive...
I came out being my own shadow – bones and skin. I couldn’t experience any thoughts or feelings, otherwise I would become mad.
People like I, wearing stripped clothing walked on the streets and hardly realized that the hell collapsed.
We did not know where to return; who needs us...and how to live our lives after all we have been through...
I do not even remember how I found myself on the American side, probably by chance. There were many people like me there. They gave us clothes and food, asked many questions. Afterwards we were transported to America, and there got the first aid from Joint (JDC) organization.
Only there I realized that I have survived. In fact, an old me died and another person came to this world. Nobody gave me a new name, so I chose to call myself Abraham...
I still could not believe in God. If he exists, how could he let all that happened? Until my twenties, I lived by his rules, but after hell, I doubted his existence. Perhaps it is a sin but I no longer believed in...
Although, this morning was quite warm, I felt coolness. I got back into the house and made myself some tea.
Rivki had a very cozy house. The kitchen and the living room in one space made full harmony. Big table in the middle – well, only the family itself consists of nine people. A big happy family... The way it should be in life.
My third life was full of happiness...
After my transportation to America a Jewish family from New York adopted me. The most important thing was to learn how to live again. In my previous life, I was a math teacher, but I never wanted to teach again. I could not see faces in front of me, I secretly was afraid of them. I learned how to do frames for pictures and simple furniture. This was the way my third life began in this new city. Half a year later, I encountered with people who were also in the concentration camps, they organized a center where people like us could meet and talk for curing our souls. More and more people came there; we learned how to talk about our past, about what happened without feeling ashamed of our difference from others. Few months have passed and I met Rohale. I met her on her first visit in that center. She seemed so helpless. We started to talk, her English wasn’t as good as mine. However, both of us knew Yiddish, so it remained our language of conversation for the rest of our lives. Rohale was born in Warsaw. A week later, we met again in this center as if we were good friends, and then we began to meet each evening. We talked about each other and our lost families. I told her about Ganna and my son and she talked about her parents and brother. When the war began, she was 15 years old and at the age of 17 she was taken to the concentration camp. She spent there four long years. I could not imagine how she survived there for so long. Be there and survive...Poor Rohale...
We got married three months later. We lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn, which we changed to a small house after ten years. A house that was big enough for our family. I worked and Rohale studied. The Jewish community helped her to get her education, and she became a music teacher. She could play the piano very well. Her father got her a piano when she was only five years old. She was from a family of musicians. Her parents taught in the conservatory – a regular assimilated family. Rohale was far from the Jewish religion, but as a good student, she tried to learn everything. We had a traditional house and we ate kosher food, just because Rohale took care of it. Traditional house, but nothing more. I lost God at the concentration camp and went to synagogue only once a year on the atonement day. I do not know even why. Still we were a part of the Jewish community and tried to protect ourselves in this world. Even though both of us went through hell our children were born – David, Rebecca and Jonathan. We felt alive and happy again. The laugh of our children was the thing that finally cured us.
Oh! How many memories today...
Suddenly I heard the phone ring. This is Rivki. She is a good daughter, she always was. Asked me if I already had lunch.
What time is it?
Is it already half past one? How the time flies. Where did my memories take me?
At three the girls will be back home, I will eat with them. At my age, I do not eat much or want anything as much as in the past. I wish for good health to everyone and rest is less important. No, there are still some important things. When you are old you need a bit of warmth from your relatives, and even more you need to know that someone still needs you in this world...
Children's laughter is the best sound to hear. Children...
Rohale and I raised three children and all of them are so different.
David... the eldest... and the only one who left us... "He left our home". Starting from his childhood, he was not comfortable with being Jewish. I believe that he was ashamed of our past, and of the fact that we had numbers on our hands. Once, he told us that only when we forget about the Holocaust we would have a real chance for future.
Could a future be without past? – Surprisingly asked Rohale then.
Yes, replied David, - you can start the future from the present.
He studied linguistics and social studies. Left New York and went to Berkley, there he finished his second degree. During the years, he distanced himself from the family. Perhaps we should have expected it from David; we always tried to figure out where Rohale and I made a mistake with him. What we did not explain well... Everything seemed ordinary from the outside – he called once a week, asking how we were doing, visited us three times a year during vacations. However, from the inside everything was empty...
Rebecca was three years younger than him. David went to study his second degree when she began her studies at the university.
I remember her on the first day of studies, when she came back home. It wasn’t a regular day; on that day they were introduced to different spot groups and youth movements. Rebecca told us laughing that near one of the tables she saw a poster saying, "Make your Jewish mother happy – register to our group". It was a Jewish organization and Rebecca did register herself there. A year later Jonathan did it as well with same university, same Jewish organization. Then, the wall between David and us became even bigger.
Once he came during his vacation and brought an article by one of his professors. He was Jewish and David considered him as a big authority in science and in general as well. This article talked about Jewish fault in the happening of Holocaust. He stated that by considering ourselves as the chosen nation we brought this tragedy to ourselves. Saying that nobody else but Jews are the ones to blame. It was not a denial of the Holocaust, but more of its approval.
How can you look in the eyes of our parents saying such stupid thing? Asked Jonathan.
It is not stupid, it is a logical analysis – David replied.
Real analysis? – Rebecca interrupted; it is an argument of some anti-Semite.
But, he is Jewish, he tries to be objective.
To hell with objectivity.
The fact that he is Jewish does not mean he is not a freak.
Rohale and I did not say a word. It was their dispute, the dispute of the young generation. However, it was so painful for us to hear David. We felt as if he blamed us for we have survived and saved our pain and sorrow for our descendants.
In the middle of their dispute, if not to say scandal, a guest came for a visit – Rebecca's friend.
"He was the only one that was missing" – I thought to myself. Although, Rohale and I always liked Benjamin. We liked him, even though he always looked scruffy – faded jeans, shirts with undefined colors and long hair. Rebecca immediately told him everything with an intention to help her in this argument. Benjamin thought for a while and then told David.
I believe (but it is only my personal point of view, and I do not pretend that it would also be the view of higher order court), that this professor tries to get a positive recognition among anti-Semites – as if he is a Jew but a good one.
What for? Noam is a scientist with worldwide recognition.
So what? People like that cannot have an inferiority complex? Isn't he a human being?
He is, but he...
He is not a superman, even though he may consider himself as one. By the way, his articles are published in the same magazines where "Mein Kampf" by Hitler was published as well.
But it is not his fault.
I do not blame him; I just try to explain the level of his anti-Semitism. 
How can a Jew be anti-Semite?
Easy. For that, you have to hate people that are like you and yourself in particular.
Rohale invited everyone to the table.
I am not hungry, stated David and went to his room.
On the next morning he left, explaining that he has some papers that he needs to finish. For the first time Rohale did not try to convince him to stay for another few days.
We understood that it was a point of no return; our relationship will never be the same again.
I heard the bus. Those are the girls came back from school. The house was alive again. A house can be alive only when there are people in it.
Grandpa, why didn’t you eat lunch? – Asked my middle granddaughter, Efrat. She looks a lot like her mom.
I didn’t want you, and I was waiting for you.
Now we will serve lunch, and we all sat at the table – said Lea.
I was sitting on the sofa, watching the girls. Efrat looked like Rebecca...Rivka...
My daughter got married very young. I was afraid that it would affect her studies. Once she came back from the university along with Benji. They were only twenty years old. It happened a few days after that sad argument with David.

During the dinner Rebecca suddenly announced that they decided to get married.
I was shocked.
What is the rush, you are so yo...
Mazal Tov, I heard Rohale's voice.
The wedding will be next summer – announced my daughter.
My parents want to meet you – added Benji.
And we would be happy to meet them as well – said Rohale.
Indeed, they got married the following summer. They didn’t want to have a big wedding, they had the traditional ceremony (hupa) and a small evening in Benji's parents house.
In September they continued their studies in the medical school, and my fears regarding her not finishing the studies did not come true. Both of them got their degrees and their early marriage was not an interruption at all.
Year later, on their summer vacation, they went on their honeymoon to Israel for two months. We did not have anyone there, but, Benji had an aunt and all her family there. They returned very happy, and then Rohale told me – I am afraid they will move there.
It was as if she knew. It did happened, but they moved there only after eight years, after fully returning to the religion. In the concentration camp, I lost God, and after so many years, my daughter Rebecca found him for herself.
Her life got a new meaning. Rebecca and Benjamin gradually got close to him...
They have changed – but those changes were barely noticed, except the names. They changed to Rivka and Benyamin.
One thing was for sure – both of them were happy.
Then we received more happiness in our lives – our first grandchild – Mordechai. Rohale was so happy – it seemed that he replaced David's place in her heart. Now we didn’t see him much. He got married when our grandson was one year old. Just called and announced that he got married and that the name of his wife is Sarah.
I sent you photographs. We did not have any wedding, just registered and that is all. We asked regarding his wife's religion. It seems that the name Sarah stands for itself, but when we received the photographs, we saw, Shiksa – said Rohale and game me the photo. On her neck there was a cross.
Shiksa – I took a deep breath – and what did you expect?
Rohale did not reply then.
Grandpa, Lea said, - everything is set, let's go to eat.
Such wonderful girls. We just sat at the table and heard the phone. This was Benny, calling between his surgeries. He wanted to know if everything was okay.
We are eating lunch, - replied Ruthi. We haven’t finished and here is another call.
Mom – the girls laughed. But it was Jonathan.
How do you feel? – He asked me.
Like an old man.
Take care of yourself. I have some good news for you; I am coming in about a week.
I would be so happy to hug you.
Actually, I already knew that my son is about to come, Rivki told me yesterday about it. He is about to move here and is busy buying a house. Every time Rivki tries to convince me to stay here, she reminds me that Jonathan with his family are also moving in about a year.
If we are all here, what would you do there alone? – She constantly asked.
Indeed, what would I do there myself? After Rohale's death, the house is so empty. When the doctors made a diagnosis, we could not believe. For a long eight years Rohale was fighting and tried to
win this battle for longer living. All these years there was a hope but...
One night she passed away, quietly. Lived quietly and died quietly as well. For the first time she left me on my own... For half a year now, I live in this world without my Rohale. 
Grandpa, why don’t you eat? – I heard Ruti's voice – isn’t it tasty?
Very tasty, my “sunshine”.
Lea made it.
I was surprised; Lea already knows how to cook... but only recently...or it was quite long ago. My memories had different counting.
Grandpa, why Yoni comes alone? – asked Efrat.
I did not realize at first that by Yoni she means Jonathan. I didn’t get the chance to answer, and Lea explained instead.
Yoni comes to buy a house, and during the summer, all of them will come.
Will they live near us?
No, in Jerusalem.
But it is still closer than America – stated Ruti.
Everybody laughed.
Indeed, Jerusalem was much closer than New York. However, I am not quite sure that I want to move here. The generation of my children and grandchildren is so different from ours. They fight for the truth and we seek for serenity. The war may not have destroyed us physically, but it certainly broke us. After it ended, we lived quietly trying to be unnoticeable. We did not argue or seek for revenge...
Some claim, that  Moses went with his people through the desert for forty years, to make sure that those who remember slavery would be gone forever. It was a point of no return, and only the young generation received the land of Israel...Forty years... They ended in the 1985... and now it is 2000, the beginning of the next century... Our century left bloody marks in history. New generation... Children and grandchildren.
David – our never-ending pain. He was the one who told us that it is possible to live in this world without any difference of religion by being only a human. He looked for it, trying to convince us that all people are the same. However, he let his wife baptize his children. But according to his theory everyone are the same so... Apparently, he only wanted to assimilate by covering himself with beautiful words... 
We found out by chance from his children. His younger daughter told Rohale once by secret and even showed her a small cross. We did not say a word to David; we did not want to reproach him. What could we say, each one and his own way. One month later Rohale began to feel pain in her chest.
It is nothing – she tried to calm me down – just my aching soul. 
However, the situation turned to be much worse – after the examinations we found out that Rohale had a breast cancer. Perhaps her agony turned into physical illness...
Grandpa, mom is on the phone, she wants to talk to you – called me Ruti.
Lost in my thoughts, I did not hear the phone. What is with me today? Are my memories beginning to interrupt me?
Rivki asked me not to go.
Why should you go so far away? – She said.
I really want to come and meet you, I will sit in the café and wait for you, as long as needed, don’t worry.
Okay, – she finally agreed and added not to exaggerate with the cakes, remember that...
I remember, remember.
After Rohale died, we discovered that I have a high sugar. Not too high but still I had to eat differently now. Rivki cared for it even more that I did. Rivki...Jonathan... This is the new generation. They do not want to live quietly. They attend demonstrations, fighting for something. In the past, we were forced to wear a sign of differentiation – Magen David (star of David). They put it by their own will and are proud of it. They are the ones that remind this world about our tragedy.
It seems that there are only two ways, theirs or David's and nothing else. That is why Jonathan moves here to the land of everlasting war. Rivki would correct me – we return to the land of our ancestors... Sounds strange – return after 2000 years... I was ready to go to Jerusalem.
Grandpa, when will you tell us about the Shoa (Holocaust), I heard Ruti's voice?
I did not reply. Said goodbye to my “sunshines” and went to the bus stop.  Neighbor's car stopped next to me.
Need a ride? – This was one of the characteristics of the local life; I did not really realize that. Here, everyone knows each other. They took me to the center of the city. I walked for a while.
Here is the café. Sometimes I come here to meet my daughter. It is difficult for an old man like me to sit at home all day long... The café is right in front of the hospital. What a wonderful evening. I sat at a table outside. Cafés like that were also popular in Budapest, down the streets – coffee, cakes...
Today I remind myself of Budapest. In my new life, I never returned there. The waitress brought me coffee, glass of water and a cake with whipped cream. Rivki wouldn’t like that. I tasted the coffee – hot – and began to observe people in the street and in the café. Suddenly, I noticed a woman who sat in front of me. Not her but the number on her hand. It seemed so familiar to me, very familiar.
The difference between our numbers was only one digit – the last one. Which means that I entered into the hell right after her... Theoretically, we would never meet. Never.
I should ask her, where is she from, what she remembers. Although, then she was only a child. She looked around sixty years old, maybe even less. Why does she look at me that way – did she notice the number...
In a while, I will be brave enough and get up for her...
But as I took another sip, the woman got up and went away, vanished in the crowd...
What a pity...
I looked at my watch; it was half past seven. In a while, Rivki will end her work.
Suddenly in front of me, I saw a man with such mad eyes. He looked at me as well, and then turned his sight to the number on my hand.
The sound and the color disappeared, I saw flashing pictures as if from a silent movie in front of me. Then I heard an explosion and shouts around me. I saw Rivki running towards me. Now I will get up for her...
I felt so dizzy... and suddenly I saw Rohale in front of me. How glad I am to see her again.
I knew that one day she would call me...
Rohale, I am on my way to you...