KOCHAV YAIR, Israel — Alex Werber calmly strode toward a patch of black stones, pulled up his sleeves and opened a plastic bag to dump out its contents.
"Goodbye, mom," he said, scattering her ashes at the former site of the Treblinka death camp in Poland, where the Nazis murdered 875,000 Jews during World War II.
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It was Lucy Werber's final wish: to have her body cremated, her ashes taken to Poland and sprinkled at the death camp that killed her entire family, a fate she narrowly avoided when she was a young girl.
"She remained a child who just wanted to be with her parents," Werber said. "She never made it to Treblinka, but she probably felt that was where she needed to go."
The ceremony capped an emotional journey that forced Werber to explore his family's dark history and vividly illustrated Treblinka's notorious place in the Jewish psyche.
The camp is perhaps the most blatant example of the "Final Solution," the Nazi plot to rid Europe of its Jews. It was designed with the sole intention of exterminating Jews, as opposed to others that had at least a facade of being prison or labor camps. Treblinka's victims were transported there in cattle cars and gassed to death almost immediately upon arrival.
Only a few dozen prisoners managed to escape Treblinka.
Thanks to her parents, Lucy Werber managed to avoid being sent to Treblinka. But the camp haunted her until her final days, her son said.
Born in Poland, she spent the bulk of the war in the Warsaw ghetto. Her son called her a "natural survivor" who knew how to sneak out of the ghetto and smuggle in food for her parents and baby brother. In 1943, just before the family was deported to Treblinka, Lucy's parents paid a Polish family to hide their 9-year-old daughter in a cellar. Of her parents, brother and extended family, she alone survived the war.
After the war, Lucy was put in an orphanage in southern Poland. Later, she married a fellow survivor, became a teacher and had Alex in 1955. Two years later, the family moved to Israel, where Lucy had another child and worked in a library and in book publishing.
Raising her family in Israel, Lucy spoke little of her own childhood experiences. It was only when she became ill that Werber, a 55-year-old accountant, learned of her unusual will. A longtime smoker, she died of lung failure in May at the age of 77. Her husband died 38 years ago.
At first he said he was "insulted" that she did not want to be buried in her home in Israel, close to her grandchildren. After she died, when he was sorting through her belongings, he began to understand. Inside her black, leather wallet he found a single black-and-white photo of her father as a young man.
"That explains everything," Werber said, tears welling in his eyes. "She was probably ridden with guilt, feeling that she should have died there with her family. A child who loses her parents at age nine is traumatized for life. I suppose she felt this intense need to join them."
With a heavy heart, he executed her will. First he negotiated the release of her body and had it cremated by a private company that keeps its crematorium's location secret because the act is so taboo in Israel — it violates Jewish law and also conjures up images of the Holocaust ovens.
Then, along with his sister and his son, he departed to Poland, packing the ashes in his suitcase. It was a tricky operation. He wasn't sure about the legality of traveling with human remains and was afraid he would be turned back if he made his intentions clear upon arrival in Poland — so he told no one from start to finish.
Before shutting down the death camp, the Nazis attempted to destroy all
evidence of their atrocities. The structures were destroyed and the
ground was plowed and planted over.
Today, all the remains are a
series of concrete slabs representing the train tracks, and mounds of
rocks and gravel with a series of memorials and stone tablets
representing lost communities.