Yad Vashem
Roughly two weeks ago, I received a call from the shorashim office offering me a spot on this trip, most likely making me one of the last additions. I was elated to go to Israel. And yet, I struggled with the deeper meaning of why I was going. Today I found that reason.
Bus 109 and I visited Yad Vashem (The Holocaust Museum) as well as David Ben Gurion's tomb (first prime minister of Israel) today. Although this was not my first time at the endlessly powerful Yad Vashem, experiencing it with my newfound best friends (both American and Israeli) weighed me down in a way I never thought was possible.
There was a story about a young mom who had to choose between which one of her children to keep. The nazis told her she could only keep one. Her name was that of my mother, Greta. She chose her youngest because she was small and easy to take care of. I wondered if my mom would've chosen me or my brother.
As the sun set later in the day, we overlooked the Negev desert from the perspective of Ben Gurion's tomb. I looked to my left to see my friends gawking at the view, just as I was. I thought of how lucky I was to be standing there in that moment. The day couldn't have been emotionally heavier, but as I put my arm around two of our wonderful Israelis, all of my worries seemed to melt away. I knew that I was home.