The Family Behind the Walls

40. Jordanna

FORTY

JORDANNA

FEbrUARY 4TH, 1945 – SOUTHERN POLAND

Alfie sits on one side of my cot and Lilli on the other with me in the center as I pluck open the envelope with our names on the front. My heart has been pounding while we prepare to reveal whatever is inside. I don’t know if I’m grateful the handwriting on the front isn’t Mama’s or scared.

I remove the paper inside with trembling hands. Alfie rests his hand on my knee, keeping it from bouncing up and down. Lilli is staring at my face, waiting for a reaction rather than trying to see what the words are on the inside of the letter.

Several pieces of paper separate from the fold, each numbered by a page in the top right corner.

The handwriting inside—it’s Mama’s.

My throat tightens as I force my eyes to focus on the top line of words.

29, September 1944

My Sweethearts,

It’s me, your mama. I’m writing to you from a place called Auschwitz where I was brought after being separated from Papa the morning after the Gestapo took us away from you. I’ve spent every single moment since then blaming myself for our separation, wondering where you might be, praying you’re together, and most importantly, pleading to God that you are still alive.

I’ve been working in the infirmary here, watching too many people succumb to ailments. For every patient I’ve helped, I’ve questioned whether I’ve taught you enough to survive without me and I’m still not sure I have that answer. A child should have their mother and it’s not fair that you are without me. A mother shouldn’t be without her child or children and it’s not fair that I’m without you, my loves.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or even tonight for that matter. I’m sure you’ve learned on your own that we have all been deprived of knowing what the future might hold. We can think the worst or hope for the best. I promise you; I’ve done nothing but hope for the best. However, in the case that my hope isn’t enough, I’ve written a dozen identical letters and hid them with patients who I saw well—well enough to see a chance of walking out of this encampment. That’s not to say I won’t, but with so much uncertainty, I wanted to be sure I tried every way possible to say what I need to say to you just in case I don’t find a way to say it out loud, to your beautiful faces.

Jordanna, you were just a young girl when this war broke out, but even now as I write this letter, you’re on the brink of adulthood. I want you to remember everything I’ve ever taught you about being a strong woman—one who can accomplish anything you set your mind to and also take care of a family and a home, God willing. I know you want it all and you should have all of it. I don’t know what you’ve been through over the last year and a half but I’m sure no one will walk away from this war as the same person they were before. I’ve always taught you to look for the person in the room who needs the most help and befriend them, love them, be the person you would want if you needed help. If you need help, do not be ashamed to ask someone for a hand. I left that part out of my motherly lectures. To be strong, you need support. I have always seen you as a younger version of myself and in my heart, I know you will find your way through the hard times. You are my warrior.

Lilli, my sweet baby. I spent so much of your life holding on to my last born, treasuring the hugs and cuddles, giving you all I could so you could hold on to your innocence in the confusing world you had been growing up within. I’m afraid I didn’t teach you what you might need to know to take care of yourself and I’m sorry if I let you down in that way. I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I wanted for you. If you are still by your sister’s side, allow her to teach you everything I taught her. Listen and learn, and then become your own person too. You don’t have to be like Jordanna to make me proud. You have to be you. And I know you will be. I’ve seen you as this little girl growing into my high heels, dressing up with my pearl necklaces and long dresses. I also see the way you take control of situations and speak your mind without fear. Never lose that ability, but I hope you understand the importance of self-control and using your words as tools of empowerment rather than power. You may not understand what I mean now, but you will someday. Make sure to hold on to this letter forever. I’m proud of your bravery and your ability to grow up overnight because you had no choice. I will always be proud of you, but know, it’s all right to be afraid of the dark and the wind—the things we can’t control. Fear makes us stronger.

Alfie, I love you as if you were my own son. I’ve been as worried about you as the others. You are a good man, raised by wonderful parents who have set you up for success in life. Despite the obstacles you might find in your path, I know you will overcome it all without batting an eyelash. You are gentle but strong, emotional, and love with all your heart. Stay with the girls. You are family and always will be, however life turns out.

I’ve written your papa separate letters as I’m quite sure he’s not with you. I’ve had dreams he’s found you but I’m unsure of how possible that might be. I’m sure he’s looking for all of us and will do anything and everything he can to bring our family back together if possible. Never forget that he is and always will be the strongest of us all and won’t give up until his dying day.

The last part of my letter is the hardest, the part I wish I would never have to write to you, your father, or anyone. I’m so sorry to tell you that Max fell ill with typhus. I don’t know how unlikely it was to find him in one of my beds in the infirmary, but I did, and it was within his final moments. I held his hand. I told him I loved him. I told him everything I never thought I would have to tell any of you. He wanted to make sure you knew how much he loved you too. He fought so hard to stay alive. I don’t know how he made it as long as he did in the condition he was in, but God gave me his final moments and I will forever be grateful for the gift of those brief moments. He’ll be watching over all of us, and he wants us to be strong for him. That’s where my hope comes from at this moment.

Hope or not, I need you to know all of what I’ve written. I will fight to survive for you. I will do everything I can to find you no matter where you are. If something does happen to me though, I know the three of you will find Papa and will make it through without me. We’re all warriors. We can all get through whatever we’re meant to survive. And if we aren’t meant to survive, there’s something more waiting for us after this life, and I know we’ll be together again. You can always talk to me, and I will hear you. I will comfort you even if I can’t hold you. I love you more than anything in this world and even if I was only given the short time I’ve had to be your Mama, I’m the luckiest Mama in the entire world.

I love you dearly and always, always will, in this life and beyond.

Love,

Your Mama

Tears have soaked through the blouse and skirt the Red Cross aides gave me. I press my hand to my heart, unsure what it’s doing because I can’t feel how fast or slow it’s beating. I can only feel pain inside every bone of my body.

Max.

Alfie has dropped his head into his hands and lifted his knees to his chest, pressing against the pain.

Lilli is still staring at the letter and I don’t know what’s going on inside of her head. “Max and Papa are together,” she whispers. “They aren’t alone like we thought.”

I gasp for air, wishing I could breathe freer than my lungs will allow. I wrap my arm around my sister, angry at myself for not knowing how to be stronger in this moment. How much stronger could I be? “You’re right,” I utter.

“Papa always said life is the hard part and if we can get through it, we can get through anything,” Lilli continues.

I don’t think that’s what Papa said. It doesn’t make much sense but if it gives her comfort, I want her to lean on those words. “He was right,” I tell her.

“Mama doesn’t know Papa died. We have to tell her.” Lilli seems sure that Mama is still alive but I’m unsure if I’m able to think the same. If she’s alive, is she still in Auschwitz, or has she been released, and if so, where is she now? How will she find us? She wrote this letter months ago. “How can we find her?” She doesn’t know I’ve been checking in with the coordinators at this displaced camp daily, searching lists for names, not finding anything. I didn’t want to drain her hope. Max’s name hasn’t even made it onto those lists. I wouldn’t expect Papa’s to since I have his papers now. New names come in every day, and I’ve been assuming they’re timely updates.