The Redhead of Auschwitz. A True Story

by Nechama Birnbaum

Our new family offers to put together a wedding for Yitzchak and me. I go to a store and rent a wedding dress. It is not the gown I always dreamed of, but it is beautiful. I do not have enough money to buy a veil, so I get my hands on some lace and I sew one myself. Everyone in the camp comes to the wedding. My heart aches for Leah, we haven’t heard from them in so long. I write to Duvid when we can get a hold of stamps, but he hasn’t heard from her either. I can only hope that they are OK. Yitzchak stands under the chuppah waiting for me. As a young boy plays the flute, a kind older couple from the camp walk me down the aisle. Yitzchak looks nervous. I think it is hard for him to let himself be happy. He feels it is his fault that his parents died. I know he wishes they were here now under the chuppah with him. Still, as I walk down the aisle to him, and into our life together, I feel nothing but pure joy in my heart. After we are married, I look around at the group of strangers I’ve grown to love, and I watch them dance for us. My Zaidy does not take my hand and spin me around like he promised he would. My mother does not fix my hair and bring me a drink when I need it. Yecheskel does not tell my husband to be good to me. I look around my wedding celebration and suddenly I feel a sadness that threatens to pull me down into the empty spaces of everyone who is not here. But then someone opens a window, and the room fills up with more guests. I hear the faint sound of birds...