Reflections – Katja Edelman

 

After a busy day of overwhelming emotions, I try to reflect on my feelings, how I dealt with the unimaginable numbers and the sites of destruction that hit me like a hard blow to the stomach. I entered the crematoriums, the first stop on our tour of
Auschwitz.  I wasn’t expecting to visit such a powerful site so early, and therefore approached it completely unprepared. I can’t quite describe the feeling that came over me as I faced the cold, stone ovens. My stomach twisted into a painful knot, my lungs refused to provide me with enough air, and a wave of fear swept over me like I could have never imagined.  The numbers scrambled through my head confusing me more than anything. I quickly realized that those numbers mean so much more than what we think. Each person had their own story, their own family, their own hopes, dreams and aspirations.  As I entered the gas chamber I couldn’t help myself from thinking of their stories.  The scratches on the wall hit me like a ton of bricks. One spot was especially difficult, it looked as if it had been scratched by only one hand, was it a woman holding tightly to her young child praying with everything she had that her little one would be spared, or was it a teenager like myself wondering why she never got the chance to fulfill all her dreams for the future. At such difficult sites I questioned everything and mourned those forgotten souls lost in these dark rooms.

            Eventually we moved on from these places that were quickly becoming to painful to deal with. The glass cases filled with eye-glasses, suitcases and shoes of the prisoners also hit hard. Again it made each person more real to me. Among the shoes I saw one that belonged to a small child.  It’s hard to imagine that someone could have so much hate and evil to commit such an atrocious act.  Of course, no murder is acceptable; however the destruction of a young child-a symbol of truly pure innocence-is an action more evil than anything else imaginable. 

            Finally we began our March, the main purpose of our trip.  As we lined up I was amazed at the numbers of other teenagers surrounding me. Still, they were just numbers, and faces I didn’t recognize from countries that seemed completely foreign to me. I marched in silence, arms linked with my close friends who provided much-needed comfort. Once we reached the bridge that covered the railroad tracks I turned around and was immediately shocked. I finally realized that the thousands of people were not just numbers; in fact we represented something much bigger.  Our existence demonstrates the triumph of our people. As we marched in the footsteps of our ancestors where they were stripped of their dignity and led ruthlessly to their death, I finally understood.  We represent the hope they held on to so desperately, the strength they used in times of such pain, and ultimately our triumph over those who sought our destruction. We are the future and I now understand the importance of my role as a Jew. I know I must never forget who I am, I will live for the forgotten and the martyrs who died so that I could exist today.