A homage to my grandmother, Marysia

My daughter, Sunny, lives in Israel and is mother to Mia, Evie, Ben and Eitan.

For the past 15 years she has been working as a midwife. About a year or so ago she took the brave step of transitioning to a new career - that of a birth photographer. Her eye and her camera work together capturing those precious moments of a new life entering the world.

A moment of new life, the ultimate triumph

For Yom Hashoah Sunny wrote a tribute to mum with a photo from a recent birth she attended.

Here is the English translation:

 Despite the pain, the suffering, and the hatred, we will continue to love

Today, on Yom Ha’Shoah, which is Hebrew for ‘Holocaust Remembrance Day’, I found myself turning to my mother’s blog —

“All About Marysia” — so that I could feel as close as possible to my grandmother.

I’m reading it and crying.

For nearly two decades, my mother, Jane, has been interviewing and documenting my grandmother’s story. This year, my grandmother will turn 102. There are so many stories: about the kind of person she is, the unimaginable hardships she endured, and the life she built afterward.

My mother has always believed that there is nothing more important than preserving my grandmother’s memories — for us and for future generations, so that we may never forget what they went through, and how the world turned a blind eye.

My grandmother, Marysia, was born and raised in Zgierz, a city in central Poland. She was just 15 when the war began (about the same age as my daughter Mia is now).

She recalls how, in September 1939, the Nazis stormed into her family home and ordered them to evacuate — forbidding them from taking a thing. I’m trying to imagine being in my grandma’s shoes. The shock, the humiliation -- chilling.

Marysia was the only daughter of Cecilia and Yaakov Wodyslavska. Her father died of starvation in the Łódź Ghetto in 1942. Two years later, when Marysia was about 18,  she and her mother (Cecilia) were deported by cattle train to Auschwitz.

Upon arrival, they were separated by force, never to see each other again. Her mother was sent to the left — to the gas chambers, where she perished. Marysia was sent to the right to become a slave for Hitler’s Third Reich.

I’m crying for the pain they endured. I can’t comprehend how anyone could tear a daughter from her mother. How does one survive that — physically, emotionally?

I cry for what was, and for what will never be again.

I miss the days when my grandmother was still young and strong. This amazing woman — together with my grandfather, Adolek — somehow found the strength, despite everything, to continue on with life. They didnt just live it, they celebrated it!

My mother often told me about the wild parties my grandparents hosted each year -  compulsory dress-up and dancing parties - where each guest had to dress-up and had to dance.

Even though we lived in Israel and my grandparents, in Australia, we remained as close as a family could be. We celebrated each time we came together. I cherish those memories. But with the joy, there was always a downside. It was torture leaving my grandparents. We all cried. I couldn’t understand how my mother had decided to live so far away from them.

My grandmother has always been the embodiment of optimism. She would always say:

“The main thing is to be good to one another. Everything else will fall into place.”

That was her motto — give to others, help others, care for others.

To me, she is a real justice warrior. She could never stand bullying, verbal abuse, or disrespect — and she was never afraid to confront it head-on.

Today I cry, not just for what happened in the past -- to my family and my people -- but for the pain we are experiencing yet again. I cry because once again, on October 7th, 2023, little children were torn from their parents in the most brutal way imaginable.

How lucky, in a strange sort of way, that my grandmother is now too old to fully understand this new wave of horror as well as the Jew hatred rising up in the world. I am relieved she doesn't know that her birthday — always joyfully celebrated on Simchat Torah — is now shadowed by grief and remembrance.

Today, I have chosen a photo from a beautiful water birth. It celebrates a moment of new life, the ultimate triumph.

Despite the pain, the suffering, and the hatred, we will continue to love. We will continue to exist.

To my grandmother, my nana Marysia — to your radiant smile.

I love you for eternity.

Capturing the last seconds of a singalong until mum had enough :-)