ROOTS

     Roots ensure the life of a plant. It makes the plant, large or small, stronger, and when the root system is weakened, there is often trouble arising.
     It is the same with people. The adopted child, no matter how loved by one's adoptive parents, generally has that niggling question - who do I look like, where do I come from? And even when one lives with one's birth family, there are still questions that remain unanswered in many cases.
     Being rootless, especially made so by violent conditions, leads to a vacancy in the heart and in that which makes us human and humane. That is why the job is so difficult, when one has to find or create roots or substitutes for the rootless kids that seem to live in a world teeming with them.
     Growing up, I had most of my grandparents, aunts and uncles, a few cousins, but there was a lack of a large extended family, especially when one knows that Jewish families in Europe were often blessed with many children. But then again, I had  many friends who had no grandparents, few aunts and uncles, if any, and perhaps a cousin here or there so I was one with more roots.
       Yet as I grew older and people began to break the silence about the Shoah, the Holocaust, it began to dawn on me that I was indeed missing family, missing a whole book on my roots and background. Asking questions for which I received no answers, and lacking today's tools for searching, I was left with gaps until I reached Israel in 1969 and found a whole new branch with many limbs, roots for me as well, as they knew!!! my grandmother who had died early, knew the story of my dad's family for generations and I loved it and love them. To this day we are close.
     Yet my mom's family knew nothing, and  my grandmother refused to talk about it There was anger that they were gone, anger that they were taken away from her, sad, a deep sadness about their being missing in her life and so we backed off, and over the years she dropped a few stories or hints. But there was a great big hole in my roots that I felt strongly for my namesake was my grandmother's mother, murdered by the Nazis and my whole life I wished to know more about her.
     Last night was a miracle. My daughter sent me a link with a Jewish Genealogical Surname Project and we joined. We submitted my request, expecting nothing since we had so little info to give and lo and behold! Two blessed miracle workers emailed me time and again answering my questions, finding me a whole family, my Bubby's family, my namesake and within a short time we not only went back six generations but also found the family that had gone to Amsterdam. Unfortunately, they were all murdered but here and there a cousin survived, a nephew or niece and they submitted forms to Yad Vashem about the murdered roots of our family, that someone should know these people once lived, had families, lives and loved and were loved.
     I have found more of my roots and I am flying high. Gerry and I have lots of digging to do, to go through sources I never knew existed. But I have found my namesake!! I cannot believe it. I bless my helpers last night, their eagerness to help me, for what they have given me is beyond priceless.
     Roots. Roots. So important in life. In fact, they give life, support life in so many ways. Now I wonder if I can be greedy and as I research the family I have just found, will I uncover any pictures? Yesterday there was one, my bubby's murdered sister and guess what - she looked just like my Bubby!!!! I am so blessed and would that we all knew our roots and kept these roots in harmony together and remembered that so many roots were disappeared purposely in an attempt to weaken a so called enemy. Jews, Armenians, Tutsi, Rohingya, it matters not. We all need them. They enhance us, make us stronger, better and whole. Busy day today and tomorrow and in the months to come for I will search and I will try to find living roots and attach ourselves together. I can't wait.