Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day as designated by the UN.
I am honouring my grandfather, all those that perished – 6 million+ and those that survived and lived, to tell the truth.
My maternal grandfather Majer Fisczel Gorewicz from Kielce, Poland survived 4 camps including Auschwitz, his mother and 5 sisters did not. I never met him as he died 3 years before I was born. For years, my mom and I did research in our attempts to trace my grandfather’s family. There is no trace of them. It is believed they perished in Auschwitz.
In August 2011, I travelled to the United States Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC (my 2nd visit) and donated whatever we had of my grandfather on behalf of my mom. We did so to preserve our documents, and so others would never forget. At that visit, I put in a request to have research done. Amazingly, they were able to trace my grandfather’s steps and tell us which camps he was imprisoned at, his Auschwitz and Flossenberg prisoner numbers and the camp he was liberated. He was liberated from Dachau on April 29, 1945.
I went to Germany for the first time in March 2012, so I could visit the Dachau concentration camp near Munich. After many years of purposely not visiting Germany, I felt it was time. My maternal grandmother was born in Germany, my mom was born in Germany, and my uncle still lives there, but I couldn’t help but feel hurt and some anger. My grandparents met in a displaced person’s camp near Munich, Germany as my grandmother was a nurse during that time. It’s been said that my grandma nursed him back to health and saved his life.
On arrival in Munich, I went directly to the train station as I had planned to spend the night in Salzburg, Austria. I knew that it would take some time for me to prepare for a visit to Dachau and to spend time in Germany. Over 1 1/2 weeks, I travelled by train from Munich to Salzburg to Vienna to Prague and then by bus back to Munich. I saved Dachau for the end of the trip.
As I looked out the train window during those first few train rides, I imagined all the people that walked beside the train tracks in death marches or that rode the rails to their fate and couldn’t help but feel emotional. I learned that my grandfather was one of those that walked in a death march. He walked from Flossenberg to Dachau in 1945.
I was overwhelmed with emotions as I walked to the gates of the Dachau camp from the remnants of the old train tracks. The gates read “Arbeit Macht Frei” which means “work makes you free”.
I walked the grounds, looked at photos and took photos. As I stood inside the Jewish Memorial with my thoughts, I looked up towards the stream of light coming in. There was an opening, and it looked like an angel with the way the light spilt in. Suddenly, all the feelings of anger I had began to lift.
At the ‘Never Again’ memorial, I placed a rock I found on the ground on the top, it joined the many other rocks that were already there. It is customary to place rocks on headstones and memorials of Jewish people and places of remembrance. It symbolizes the strength and endurance of a rock; it says that we were there and it is a way to preserve the love and memory of those that have died.
These are some of my photos of Dachau. It has taken me almost 2 years to write this post.
B-3058, your name was Majer Fisczel Gorewicz. I remember.
Update: After years of searching we finally learned the fate of a member of our family. His name was Zygmusz Gorewicz, and he was 3 years old. He was my mother’s brother, born during the war and before her. He was 1 of the last 45 children of Kielce. His story was found on the Yad Vashem website.
Until next time,
Andrea… and my wandering iPhone