June 20, the last goodbye

We woke early and packed ready for a smooth exit. Then going the route we've travelled before, we headed into Jerusalem and took the light trail to the Yam Visham, the Holocaust centre. Entry was free but we opted for the audio guide, which in the end we didn't use much. There was so much to read and videos to listen to that the audio guide tended to get in the way. 

This is a beautiful, well curated museum. The people speaking about their experiences and about their family members they had lost was profoundly moving. 

I found myself crying often and tried to wipe the tears away. But it's a hard person who doesn't cry when a woman tells how her five year old son screamed for her when they were separated. She says, "I only wish that someone was holding him, that someone was with him in the chamber." And then she buried her head in her hands sobbing. She's telling the story fifty years later. 

Another man says that people ask him how he can smile. He says that he has to. If he gives in to the sadness he would never stop crying. 

We went into the book of names room. And into the room for the remembrance of children. And finally into a room that had displayed on the wall, one by one, prayers and prose that the survivors had written. 

We left quietly and took the train back to Jerusalem where we were dragged back into the gaity and energy of the bustling crowds, the street vendors, the man flipping pancakes. 

We bought knafe and schwarma. We ate hot chips and bought slushies. Life is so good. 

We are on board the plane now. We caught a taxi to the train station and the train to the airport. All went well except that I left one bag behind. It was the one with our neck pillows and headphones. 

Nothing too crucial. 

They've told us to turn off our phones. This might be all I write.