Growing Up with a Holocaust Survivor

The Holocaust had an enormous effect on me and my family. My grandmother and great grandmother were the only survivors in the Holocaust from their family, and their stories are ones that can never be erased from my memory.

In 1941, my grandmother, her brother, father and mother were all ripped from their home and transported to Prague, where they were sent to the concentration camp called Terezin. When they all arrived at the concentration camp, the men and women were separated which meant that my grandmother and her mother had to be separated from my grandmother's brother and father. Unfortunately, that was the last day my grandmother saw her brother and father. Whether they were sent directly to the gas chambers, or if they were tortured to death are unknown.

My grandmother and Great Grandmother were forced into hard labor on a daily basis; they were starved and shoved into a shack (which was the size of a small house garage) with 25-30 other Jews with no electricity or running water.

In 1944 when my grandmother was 21, her and her mother had found out that they had a relative in the United States, and were able to connect with him. He quickly sent for the two of them, and was able to safely get them overseas to New York.

My grandmother and great grandmother were able to start their lives over and attempt to live a fear free life. They both went on to get a college education and received their doctorates in teaching. They have both written books on their experiences in the Holocaust and have been published. They also went on to be public speakers in order to share their experiences, and not hide the truth in which many people aren't aware of.

Today, my grandmother who is in her early 80's is still alive and well, but the way she lived her life post Holocaust was anything but normal. She continued a prisoner lifestyle feeling as though this was the normal way of life. She was very strict about everything. She marched 5 miles every morning, and still attempts to march as far as she can. She was always on a strict German diet, and was not okay with anyone getting away with anything other than proper behavior. If my sister or I disobeyed her, it was no dinner, and we were put to sleep on the floor. She refused to say she loved anyone, and never showed any affection.

Growing up, the behavior my grandmother portrayed was hurtful to me and my family, but as I get older, I realize that the affection she has is all she knows. Her father and brother were basically killed in front of her, and she was treated as though she was an animal for 4 years of her life. She certainly doesn't take life for granted, but she never really knew how to love anyone.

Going through your life in pain, is not a way to live. While she was lucky enough to escape genocide, her mental state didn't quite make it back in one piece. She suffers daily with memories, and has a blank look in her eyes when she shares a story.

Watching a family member suffer in pain your entire life is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. I'm thankful my grandmother was able to share her stories, and to not keep in silence about the horrific time her life.