I wear the name of my great-great-grandmother around my neck every day. It is my name too, my Hebrew name, Lana. I haven’t taken it off for the last 10 years. I bought it on my first visit to Israel.
I don’t really ever forget that I am the grandchild of four Holocaust survivors. When I think of the sheer number of miracles that happened in order for me to be alive, it’s kind of hard to forget. I am not a statistician but I know the chances of me being alive are close to statistically impossible.
All four of my grandparents were born in the Transylvania Hungary area. From my dad’s side, we call my grandparents Ima and Abba, mother and father, in Hebrew. Ima and Abba were teenagers dating before the war broke out. They would go dancing, chaperoned of course.
Abba was taken to a labor camp where he somehow survived. When the war ended he was stuck in Cyprus and eventually made it to Haifa. He held on to a picture of his young love, Ibi the whole time. What were the chances that he would see her again?
Ima was taken to Auschwitz. Ima says that she was only able to survive the “death march” from Auschwitz to Bergen-Belsen because her mother told her to “keep going.” My great-grandmother died from Typhus three days after liberation, but Ima was saved. While she was recovering in Sweden, a list of survivors was passed around with the name “Abraham Steiner,” Abba’s name, on the top. What were the chances that this was her Abraham?
She placed an ad in the Jerusalem Post looking for Abraham. And then he wrote her back, he was alive and living in Israel. Ima got on a boat and arrived in Israel, three months later they were married, nine months later they had my uncle and a couple years after, they had my father. They eventually landed in Brooklyn, NY because it was too hard for them to make a living. I lived in Tel Aviv for 2 years after making Aliyah before I realized I was living down the block from the very apartment where they got married and lived in. Seriously, what are the chances?
On my mother’s side my grandfather, Zaidy, was also sent to a labor camp. He survived by stealing bread from the rabbits. He also helped his sisters survive, all seven of them. After her brother was shot and thrown into the Danube river, my grandmother, Bobby, was living under fake Christian papers that her mother had for her and was hidden in an orphanage. When the war ended, her mother brought her to NY. She was married to my grandfather and they stayed in Brooklyn. In Brooklyn, my mom was born and raised and she decided to attend Brooklyn College, where my father also went.
Sometimes I imagine what I would have done if I had seen what they saw. Although recalling these details is painful for me, the emotion I feel most strongly is this one: strength. I am a survivor. Nothing can destroy me. I am statistically impossible. What are the chances of me being alive?
And then I think, I must really be here for a reason. I ask myself “why was I blessed with all these opportunities?” With that ability and all the choices in the world, I chose to move to Israel, where it all began again for my family. What are the chances of returning home to a place your family left? This is the land that exists so we don’t have to hide anymore, this is our only home. Any other home we had, no longer exists for us.
The first thing people usually ask when meeting someone new is “what’s your name?” When I am asked, I always say “my English name is Rebecca and my Hebrew name is Lana,” reaching for my necklace. When they ask me what it means I say “I am the grandchild of four Holocaust survivors, and this is the name of my great-great-grandmother, she was from Hungary.” I then share that in Hebrew “Lana” means sleeping. I tell them that I am anything but asleep, my ancestors may no longer be living, but through me, they are wide awake.
I feel so blessed to be carrying the history of my grandparents here in Israel. Their story affects my life daily. Recently I started doing more of what I love. I left my old job to find a new one, started writing again, moved to the North of the country to live in nature, started learning more Torah, and intentionally living a life in Israel that I want to live. Why? Because I have the choice. I can do whatever I choose because I was blessed with life. My grandparents didn’t have a choice. They had to survive, they had to heal. Although I am still healing from their pain, I am not only surviving but thriving in the land that gave them another chance at life.
