A Holocaust Story: Even When It Seems Dark, the Light Will Always Shine on You

The author, age eight, and her father, Nathan Elbaum, age eight. Photo courtesy of the author.

The author’s grandfather’s siddur, which he prayed while hiding from the Nazis, which she carried on her wedding day. Photo supplied by the author.

I was about the same age as my father was in the photo that shook my childhood innocence. My 8-year-old father’s haunted eyes stared back at me, reflecting past horrors he never revealed. What in the world could have happened to him to make him appear so frightened? His dark, sad eyes looked at me like they had a scary story to tell. What did he see? Who hurt him?

I learned through my Grandma Betty’s horrific stories that the Nazis stole my father’s childhood. My dad, whom I always saw as my strong, loving protector, was a hidden child of the Holocaust. When I learned that I was a daughter of a Holocaust survivor, I became even prouder to be Jewish and realized that I must never take for granted my freedom to practice Judaism and to observe our Jewish traditions.

I wanted to know more. I began to ask my dad questions about what he went through. He always gave me the same answer: “I don’t remember.” As Jews, our mantra regarding the Holocaust is, “Never forget.” But how do we never forget if the people that survived don’t choose to remember?

My Grandpa’s brothers (my great uncles) who survived the Holocaust could not share their experiences because they were no longer with us. With each passing year, there are fewer survivors to tell their own stories.

As a child of a Holocaust survivor, I feel the urgency to ensure that their journeys of survival are not forgotten. Ever since I became a life member of Hadassah, it became my mission to find Holocaust survivors to speak at my chapter’s annual “Holocaust Remembrance Day.”

In 2013, with my grandparents and father no longer with us, I asked my father’s younger brother, my Uncle Oscar, to speak at a 2013 Holocaust event. He said he was too little to remember anything. So I invited my cousin’s mother Rita and her twin sister Serena to speak instead.  We were all moved to tears as they retold their story of surviving the death march as 17-year-old twin sisters.

Sadly, they, too, along with many of our former speakers, are no longer with us. It is my purpose now to commemorate my family’s legacy by retelling their story.

My father is gone now, too, and I honor him by never taking for granted that he survived, enabling my family to exist. I am here because of him, as are his eight grandchildren and one great grandchild. I owe it to my father and all those that survived or perished to never forget what happened. My father’s darkest moments were buried with him, but gratefully I absorbed my Grandma Betty’s Holocaust stories and her memories are alive in my soul. I will never forget.

And I am forever grateful to my Grandpa Joe for saving our family and faithfully keeping a siddur (Jewish prayer book) with him while hiding from the Nazis. Sitting in a barn with our family, grasping his palm-sized prayer book, he desperately prayed to G-d to keep what was left of his family safe, as his tears stained its pages.

I believe my Grandpa Joe’s siddur and prayers brought my family light, strength, hope and the faith to survive. Although the many tears he shed are now long dry, the stain of his tears on the pages of this 100-year-old siddur remain, reminding younger generations of his belief in G-d and his devotion to his family. That is why I titled my book Tear-Stained Pages: A hidden child of the Holocaust and his journey from darkness to light.

Looking at this siddur today, this family treasure that symbolizes my family’s suffering, inspires me to keep my faith in G-d and to have hope always that light and love will overcome the darkness. I know in my heart that it was my Grandpa’s prayers that led to my family’s miraculous survival. Grandpa Joe’s prayer book joined me under my chuppah (wedding canopy), tucked in my bridal bouquet. As I held Grandpa Joe’s prayers in my hands, I felt his light shining upon me.

In October 2018, six months after Tear-Stained Pages was published, I was humbled to have copies of it featured in the permanent collection of the Yad Vashem library in Israel. It has always been my dream to have my father’s story memorialized for all time in this World Holocaust Remembrance Center, so my family’s legacy will forever be shared with future generations.

One day, during a dental appointment, my hygienist, who had read my books, shared a life-changing story with me. Her 16-year-old daughter had seen my dad’s photo on the cover of my book and it shocked her. After learning what the book was about, she brought it to school. All the students in her 11th grade history class were fascinated, as none of them had ever heard of the Holocaust. I felt a sense of urgency to speak to these students and to educate them for posterity.

On October 6, 2023,  at our local Jewish community center, I stood proud, sharing my father’s harrowing story of surviving the Holocaust. I never in my darkest moments would have imagined that only a few hours after I gave my presentation, gratefully believing this would never happen again, that it actually would—and did.

I am grateful that my dad and grandparents were not there to bear witness to the atrocities of the October 7 massacre, the second Holocaust. I could feel their heartbreak that their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren were again facing the worst antisemitism since their darkest hours of running from the Nazis.

I still pray to them every day to watch over us and our beloved Israel, which is where I was supposed to be a few days after those vicious attacks.

As a life member of Hadassah, a second-generation Holocaust survivor and a staunch Zionist, I will always stand with Israel, support the brave soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces, educate others and lead with love. Holocaust education is more crucial than ever and, as a tribute to my father, I will continue sharing his story.

I used to say that humankind must never allow another Holocaust. I am devastated that today, over 80 years later, “never again” is now. But I am proud that Hadassah was a sponsor of the 2020 Never Again Education Act, which, to quote Hadassah, “brings America closer than ever to ensuring we will never forget the tragedy of the Holocaust, that students will learn its universal lessons of tolerance and that educators will be better prepared to teach this absolutely critical subject matter accurately and confidently.”

It is my calling to not only educate about the Holocaust but also to inspire others to have faith and never lose hope because my existence is proof that the power of prayer creates miracles. Never again AGAIN.

Am Yisrael Chai. The nation of Israel lives.