A letter to my boys...

This is a letter that I wrote upon my return to Nathan (6) and Charlie (4), and I promised a few of you that I would post it....

My dearest Nathan and Charlie,

I am writing this letter to you upon my return from The March of Remembrance and Hope—a trip that I helped lead to Germany and Poland. You stayed at home with Daddy and Meema and of course, Bea was with you both constantly.

I intended to write to you much more while I was gone but it is only now that I have found the time and hopefully, the words to convey what I experienced and what I hope you someday will learn from.

Boys, I witnessed atrocities. I witnessed the remnants of pain and suffering that I pray you know nothing like in your entire lives. What I saw traveling through the annals of history embossed itself in my heart and mind and I only hope that I can stay true to Maude, Sally, and Pinchas (our beloved Holocaust survivors who traveled with us) and share their stories with the world so that we can all bear witness.

Germany and Poland used to have thriving Jewish communities—communities with cultures that have been lost while being destroyed. Years ago after I traveled to Mathaussen (a concentration camp outside of Vienna), I remember writing amidst a cacophony of emotions while trying to grasp the magnitude of the Holocaust “who were doctors, the lawyers, the poets, the actors, the dreamers? Who were they? Who were they to be?” Today, after having traveled through Auschwitz, Birkenau, Treblinka, Majdanek, I find myself asking those very questions. But, I am also asking many more.

The mind is an incredible ally, boys. It protects us when it knows it needs to—which is why I am unable to grasp the magnitude of what I just saw. Even after seeing a barrack full of shoes—full of shoes of people whose lives were mercilessly taken—shoes of men and women, young and old, children and toddlers and shoes of those whose ages, I simply can’t guess-- I still can’t grasp it. There is just no way and it really isn’t ‘graspable’. I guess that is good that the mind can do this, though right at this moment, it feels awfully wrong.

Before I left on this trip, I was feeling somewhat selfish—like I needed to take this trip but was it fair of me to be leaving you for 10 days in order to go on a trip that I needed to take? But, in retrospect, I don’t think it was selfish—I think it was critical—I know it was critical. We must pass on the images of what I just saw and use them as a springboard to instill change in this world and to use them also, as a reminder of what humankind is capable of. This is what scares me the most. Humankind did this. People did this to people.

As I write this and dream for a future for you both that is void of such atrocities, I know that genocides are taking place right now. And, so in the same breath that I pray you don’t ever know this reality, I fear that in this world, we have a long way to go before such evil is obliterated.

We must act—through teaching, through talking, through writing and demonstrating. We must recount the past and in teaching of the evils of humanity, you, my Nathan and Charlie, I have no doubt and all the faith in the world, will show of the goodness, we human beings are also capable of.

The other night, after visiting Majdanek, I picked up the phone and called you. Nathan, you asked me if when I came home I would teach you about what I learned and about all of the places I went. I promised you I would—but since 6 is hardly an age to begin describing Auschwitz, Birkenau, Majdanek, and Treblinka, I thought I would write you a letter for when you are older. I will tell you stories at a later time, but thought that having written immediately upon my return from this trip, would serve my memory well.

With my heart and soul, boys, I adore you. Never doubt the difference you can make in this world if you are committed to such causes—Amidst a long and horrendous nightmare of history, there were courageous people who risked their lives to save many—we much follow in their footsteps and try with everything we can and with all that we are, to make a difference in people’s lives.

I love you.

Mommy