past.
After a while, Jacob looked up, wiping his eyes. Rudy asked, “You okay, Jacob? Is there anything I can get you?”
Jacob just shook his head and patted his cheek. “Forgive an old man crying like a baby. Just stay here and let me finish what I have begun.”
“Okay, Jacob, okay.” Jacob blew his nose on an old handkerchief and took a deep breath. After a minute, he continued on.
“My mother sat on one side of Blanca and I sat on the other. I reached out to take her hand, but there was no reaction; she just stared, not at me, not at anything, just a blank, empty stare. My father watched with an anguished look on his face. I knew he wanted to kill the man who had done this to his beloved daughter, but all that would accomplish was being killed himself. And then who would be there to look after us? My father, Rudy, was a good man. He kept his anger bottled up just so he could stay with his family. He didn’t yet know there was nothing he could do to protect us.
“The truck took us to the train station where a long line of railway cars with their side doors gaping open wide waited to transport us to places unknown. We didn’t know where we were going; we only knew it couldn’t be good. We knew that people who disappeared in the middle of the night were not seen again. The boxcars were empty but for hay strewn on the floor. There were no beds, no chairs, no heat, no toilets, only a bucket in the middle of each car. No privacy either. We were packed so tightly, like sardines in a can; most of us had to stand the entire journey, let the old folks and the sick sit or lie down if possible. The car began to stink as the bucket filled. We had small air vents which circulated frigid air. We prayed to get to our destination, for surely it would be better than these conditions. How little we knew—how innocent we were of what was coming. We were on the train for days and realized that we had left Germany behind and moved into western Poland. Some people speculated about where we were headed, others had heard things, terrible things, but surely these stories could not be true.
“Blanca was quiet during the trip and ate very little of what we had brought with us hidden in our clothes. The rhythm of the moving train seemed to keep her lulled in a near catatonic state—the twinkle gone from her eyes. Every now and then, tears would flow from them, yet there were no sobs, no sounds, as if the act of crying were not connected to any thought process. As hard as I tried, she could draw no comfort from me. How bitter I felt. I had failed to protect the sister I loved as dear as myself. Little did I know that time in the train would be the last I would be with her.
“We finally arrived at our destination. It was raining and cold when we got there. We had arrived at Auschwitz.”
Rudy looked shocked. He had heard stories of what happened there—stories too hard to believe.
“Ah, I see by the look on your face that you have heard of Auschwitz.”
Rudy nodded,. “I never heard of anyone surviving.”
“Many times I have wondered if it would have been better for me if I had not survived. My entire family died there, Rudy. Why was I spared? Spared to remember the brutality, the inhumanity, and the terror? Spared to remember my family, all gone too soon in horrible deaths? It has not been an easy life. I have not been able to move past it, the way Yoshito and Frederick have moved beyond their painful histories. It still haunts me, even in my dreams, as if it were yesterday.” Jacob struggled to regain his composure.
“Maybe today, Rudy, you are helping me. I told you, I have not shared this story with anyone for decades. But in telling you, I am somehow beginning to feel less burdened, less fearful. I am afraid that in my giving, you, my friend, may now carry some of it with you for the rest of your life. Forgive me for that.” Jacob patted him on the back, and Rudy nodded his understanding.
“Tell me the rest,
After a while, Jacob looked up, wiping his eyes. Rudy asked, “You okay, Jacob? Is there anything I can get you?”
Jacob just shook his head and patted his cheek. “Forgive an old man crying like a baby. Just stay here and let me finish what I have begun.”
“Okay, Jacob, okay.” Jacob blew his nose on an old handkerchief and took a deep breath. After a minute, he continued on.
“My mother sat on one side of Blanca and I sat on the other. I reached out to take her hand, but there was no reaction; she just stared, not at me, not at anything, just a blank, empty stare. My father watched with an anguished look on his face. I knew he wanted to kill the man who had done this to his beloved daughter, but all that would accomplish was being killed himself. And then who would be there to look after us? My father, Rudy, was a good man. He kept his anger bottled up just so he could stay with his family. He didn’t yet know there was nothing he could do to protect us.
“The truck took us to the train station where a long line of railway cars with their side doors gaping open wide waited to transport us to places unknown. We didn’t know where we were going; we only knew it couldn’t be good. We knew that people who disappeared in the middle of the night were not seen again. The boxcars were empty but for hay strewn on the floor. There were no beds, no chairs, no heat, no toilets, only a bucket in the middle of each car. No privacy either. We were packed so tightly, like sardines in a can; most of us had to stand the entire journey, let the old folks and the sick sit or lie down if possible. The car began to stink as the bucket filled. We had small air vents which circulated frigid air. We prayed to get to our destination, for surely it would be better than these conditions. How little we knew—how innocent we were of what was coming. We were on the train for days and realized that we had left Germany behind and moved into western Poland. Some people speculated about where we were headed, others had heard things, terrible things, but surely these stories could not be true.
“Blanca was quiet during the trip and ate very little of what we had brought with us hidden in our clothes. The rhythm of the moving train seemed to keep her lulled in a near catatonic state—the twinkle gone from her eyes. Every now and then, tears would flow from them, yet there were no sobs, no sounds, as if the act of crying were not connected to any thought process. As hard as I tried, she could draw no comfort from me. How bitter I felt. I had failed to protect the sister I loved as dear as myself. Little did I know that time in the train would be the last I would be with her.
“We finally arrived at our destination. It was raining and cold when we got there. We had arrived at Auschwitz.”
Rudy looked shocked. He had heard stories of what happened there—stories too hard to believe.
“Ah, I see by the look on your face that you have heard of Auschwitz.”
Rudy nodded,. “I never heard of anyone surviving.”
“Many times I have wondered if it would have been better for me if I had not survived. My entire family died there, Rudy. Why was I spared? Spared to remember the brutality, the inhumanity, and the terror? Spared to remember my family, all gone too soon in horrible deaths? It has not been an easy life. I have not been able to move past it, the way Yoshito and Frederick have moved beyond their painful histories. It still haunts me, even in my dreams, as if it were yesterday.” Jacob struggled to regain his composure.
“Maybe today, Rudy, you are helping me. I told you, I have not shared this story with anyone for decades. But in telling you, I am somehow beginning to feel less burdened, less fearful. I am afraid that in my giving, you, my friend, may now carry some of it with you for the rest of your life. Forgive me for that.” Jacob patted him on the back, and Rudy nodded his understanding.
“Tell me the rest,
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