Page 102 - Centrum Dialogu im. Marka Edelmana w Łodzi. Zofia Lubińska-Rosset - "Okruchy Pamięci".
P. 102

had chronic diarrhea and was afraid of such a long journey. Seeing
            our awkwardness and indecisiveness, an unfamiliar young man ap-
            proached us and disinterestedly offered help. When he found out
            about our situation, he brought Mom a bucket and literally pushed
            us into the wagon. How strange tricks can memory play can be
            proved by the fact that, remembering so little from this trip, I can
            still perfectly picture the tall figure of that blonde stranger, in a
            herringbone raglan belted coat, whom I had only seen for a short
            while and never met again.
                                               th
                 After one or two days, on May15 , 1945, we returned to Lodz
            and found ourselves back at home at 1a Nawrot St., but not in the
            old, pre-war apartment, because it was occupied by the family of
            the new house caretaker. Our pre-war caretaker, Jan Kocieba, took
            us into his apartment and after a few days we moved to the 3rd
            floor to an apartment shared by several families. This is where my
            nanny Frania found us, bringing our family photos and some other
            trinkets that she had kept throughout the war.
                 It can be said that history has come full circle, during which I
            went  through  the  Lodz  ghetto  and  three  concentration  camps.
            From my immediate family, driven to various ghettos in the coun-
            try, only those who were in the Lodz ghetto survived the war, i.e.
            my Parents and I, and my aunt Reginka with uncle Salek and his
            brother  Moryc. The other survivors  of the  Holocaust  were my
            cousin Tereska (the daughter of my Mom's youngest sister), who,
            saved from the transport during the evacuation of the ghetto in
            Stanislawow, found shelter in the monastery of Lubien Kujawski.
            The  so-called  "good  appearance"  of  my  Dad’s  cousins  allowed
            them to survive in Warsaw on false Aryan papers. All the others
            from  Bialystok  (where  my  Mom  came  from)  and  Warsaw  (my
            Dad's family) died, most likely in the gas chambers of Treblinka.
                 How deep the psychological wounds were in those who sur-
            vived may be proved by the fact that the aforementioned cousin
            Tereska, our closest relative, after the end of the war, when found
            by my Parents, refused any further contact with us, so that it would



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