Yom HaShoah

I wasn't planning on posting about Yom HaShoah at all, as I don't relate to it very well. I can't relate to it very well. SJ has a wonderful post entitled Why I Don't Read Holocaust Books which sums up my feelings on the subject; below is my own comment from there:

Sadly, I relate all too well with this post. I, too, cannot seem to read Holocaust books. I view WWII from the perspective of an American - one who cares about the troop movements, the war portion - not the perspective of a Jew, of one whose people suffered incredible horrors, unimaginable losses.

Perhaps this is due to not having any true connection to the Holocaust. All of my grandparents - even some great-grandparents - lived their whole lives in this country. There are no missing aunts, grandparents, brothers... no children who were murdered in my family. The closest we came to WWII was my grandfather being part of the US Air Force, stationed for most of the war in... Texas.

The few books I have read about the Holocaust are on the periphery of it, or focus on one aspect in a fictional fashion. (Say, the Warsaw uprising.) I read Go, My Son when I was 10 - but that didn't touch on the horrors. From Kletsk to Siberia was yet another fortunate soul who suffered through trials and tribulations - but escaped the camps.

I don't know what this inability says about me - but I don't intend to try and find out, either. We shield ourselves from hurt throughout life... I guess this is just another way I do so.

Never forget.