Memorial I: Cry

In the summer of 2009, I visited Birkenau and Auschwitz concentration camps with my family. My father-in-law, a Polish Holocaust survivor of Janowska concentration camp in eastern Poland, had died the year before. We decided to visit this infamous site as a way to remember him and in our own way to honor and give witness to all those who suffered and died at this historic site.

Upon entering Birkenau, following the straight lines of the railroad bed, we saw a flat extension of buildings spanning many acres in all directions. It scene was bleak, the sun was beginning to fall to the horizon, and a few people ambled from building to building. The silence was oppressive.

Located near the far end of the complex were the crematoria of Birkenau, now just a pile of concrete, iron, brick, and debris, and past that was this memorial. It lay in the ground, surrounded by wind and silence. I was overwhelmed by the words etched into the metal, and wept for the many who perished here. I walked slowly around the memorial, seeing only secondarily, that visitors before me had placed small stones in the corners of the memorial, adding their own touch to the profundity before me. Strangely, each corner of the memorial had more and more stones, as if to emphasize the passage of time and to encourage a circumambulation around it. Somehow these stones helped me to understand the story of what had happened here and to be aware of the shared responsibility we have to remember.