The Fleetingness of Time

As we approach the seventieth anniversary of the end of World War II and the liberation of Holocaust survivors from their ordeals in internment and death camps, I am reminded of the fleeting nature of time. Growing up in a community of Holocaust survivors, I viewed firsthand the strength, endurance, courage, and sheer determination of those who suffered through incredible horrors. They raised children in America with the hope that they would be free of overt bias and the threat of extermination.

Last week, one of my childhood friends among “the greenhorns” of Springfield, Massachusetts passed away after a long battle with breast cancer. She was raised with the value of striving for excellence, independence of spirit, and generosity of soul. Her strength was instilled by her parents, sometimes with exceedingly high expectations, but reflective of their harsh past and their dreams for the future.

We lost touch through the years for which I am to blame. Time passed by so rapidly almost unnoticed, yet my memories of her and her family remain as clear as ever. Most of the survivors I knew are gone now. Their offspring were supposed to live yet for a long time to come, bearing witness to the adjustments their parents endured by coming to a new country and reconstructing a life shattered by unabashed evil.

But, against our will, as we of all people should know, life’s intended path may be cut short. Yet my friend surpassed every expectation during her life, leaving her indelible mark on her community, workplace, and family. She, indeed, left a legacy of excellence of which her parents would have been justifiably proud.

Brigitta, I will think of you always.