The DP camps weren’t designed to stay open indefinitely. Ranshofen was slated to close. The Silberfarbs and Baksts were making plans for the next step. Batya and Fishel left for Italy. David said his good-bye to Paula, telling her that if her family went to Cuba, he would see her again. If they went to Israel, he wasn’t so sure. Berl and David left for another DP camp, Hofgeismar, in the American zone in Germany. From there, they hoped to go to the United States. Berl’s brother in New York offered to sponsor them.
At some point during the war, Berl developed a hernia. He was eager to get it repaired before the journey to America. He wanted to arrive in the New World strong and fit. David didn’t understand the rush, he wanted his father to wait until they got to the United States to have the surgery. Adding to David’s anxiety was the fact that he didn’t trust the German doctors. Berl could not be dissuaded. He wanted to go forward, and the surgery was scheduled to take place at the hospital in Hofgeismar.
The details of what followed are unclear. Berl made it through the surgery, but he had complications. Tragically, he died of those complications. David was devastated. After all they had both been through, they were finally on the cusp of a new life. He already lost his mother, brother and little sister. His other sister was enroute to Israel. He was alone to deal with this latest unexpected tragedy. He didn’t have Paula for comfort. Paula and her family were still in Ranshofen, Austria. David made the funeral arrangements.
Berl was buried in a Jewish cemetery in the town of Hofgesimar. David observed shiva and mourned his loss alone.
David was at his lowest point. He didn’t know if he had the strength to go on. What was the point, he wondered? Why had he survived all that he gone through only to have this happen? He hadn’t received his visa yet and he wondered if he ever would. He wrote to Paula and shared his heartbreaking news. He waited and waited to hear back. She didn’t know what to say, how to offer comfort. She didn’t write. He never felt so alone
One night in the midst of his sorrow, he had a dream. His mother came to him. She reassured him, “You will be all right.” In the dream, she gave him a letter. It was postmarked the 8th. He awoke feeling hopeful for the first time in months. Even though it was a dream, he felt his mother’s presence. Throughout the war, during challenging and frightening times, he felt that his mother was protecting him. He felt she continued to look out for him.
On December 8th, 1948, he received a letter containing his visa. David sailed for the United States in January of 1949.
Stories I Tell Myself 
Dad has told me many times how his father’s death was the worst thing that ever happened to him. There are no words I can come up with to describe the intensity of the despair I hear in his voice when he speaks of this…it’s kind of unbearable for me to hear.
I have also heard his hope and renewed strength when he speaks of his mother coming to him in his dream and the joyful significance of the number 8.
My dad is a remarkable man.
We are blessed to have both mom and dad with us as we celebrate the New Year. 🍎🍯♥️
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I always find the spirit that keeps him going to be so inspiring. That was such a brutal moment and he was so alone. And whether we believe it was his mother or his unmwillingness to be miserable, he has always displayed an amazing optimism.
Except when he’s watching a Mets game, which, as a Mets fan, I completely understand.
Thank you for another wonderful post.
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