It has been 70 years since the end of World War II and the liberation of the camps. For some of us, their offspring, we are still consumed by the events of those six years, the aftermath of which continues to unfold in our lives and our psyches. For some of us, these 70 years are our 7 days of shiva in which we mourn those lost souls and wonder what might have been. For some of us, we feel compelled to understand why our parent was the way he was.
This is the story of a survivor, our father whose entire family was murdered in Treblinka, a man for whom the “final solution” DID happen. He overcame, lived a uniquely “successful” life but never faced his terrible grief. This is his story, and the story of the next generation, their journey to uncover the truth of who he was and why they became the tangled web of who they are.
The story begins in Xanthi, Greece with our journey, which will follow the same route forced upon our family, from the moment they were pulled out of their beds and homes at 3 am, on March 3, 1943 till their annihilation in the Treblinka Death Camp in Poland sometime around the end of March or beginning of April, 1943. It is a journey that will evoke an intensity of emotions that will be difficult to withstand.
We will endure whatever comes our way. The style of the journey will be modest, no 5-star hotels, no exotic restaurants, no souvenier shopping, just bare basics. Our transportation will include trains and buses because we want to travel on the same railroad tracks, breath the same air, see the same countryside that perhaps they might have seen, smell the smells that may have permeated the box car peep holes, immerse ourselves in this jet-fuel experience and maybe even sense their presence.
And write, till every emotion and every sensation is recorded. If they are out there somewhere, they will know that we, whom they never met, never loved, never hugged, but whom they might have imagined, are with them, that they are not forgotten, that their precious lives will be recorded into posterity. The book will be called, “A Soul’s Calling”, a book about a holocaust survivor and the next generation.
a soul's calling 1943 
i can’t wait. Beautiful writing Ariela.
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Thanks Arie. Love you! Ariela
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Ariela, thank you for posting. This is a journey that I hope no other generation will ever hope to take. Looking forward to being part of yours through this blog.
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Thank you Mimi. Will tell you all about it when we return. Love Ariela
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I am in tears & can only imagine your emotional state. Hugs & love to all of you. Jul xo
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Hi Julie,
Thank you for your comment. We spent a lot of time with Reni, she sends her love. She was so very happy to meet us as were we. Love to your mom & family. Would love to get together with you after we return to tell you more about the trip. Love Ariela
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Dear Ariela, What a strong beginning to a powerful story of migration. Your journey and that of your brother and sisters is not forced in the brutal way that descended so suddenly at 3 AM on that horrible day in March of 1943 on your family members who were murdered in Treblinka only weeks later in the same year. We know at the outset of this narrative that much good will come from what your family is doing with your own family’s story.
We are drawn into the enormous gratitude you must all feel that your father survived. Without that ray of light in this dark story, there would be no Ariela born in 49 to write to us about your thoughts and feelings. So we heave another sigh of gratitude that YOU exist, that without you we would not be reading a single word about your journey and your willingness to do what your father he was unable to do in his life time.
All of your readers will be enriched by what now unfolds. Thanks from the bottom of my heart and soul for your willingness to share these experiences. As Arie says, your writing is beautiful. Your friend, Ed
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Hi Ed, Thank you so much for your kind and incredibly sensitive comments. My regret is that I never really thought, while he was alive, about how this horrific experience must have affected my father. Well, maybe he was with us on our journey, and maybe he too has read our words. I am so glad you are my friend. Ariela
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Ariela, a wonderful story. Makes those of us who avoided what your father and family went through realize how fortunate we were to have been born in California. I am going to share your story with our children and adult grandchildren..
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