About a year before the trip, my mom asked me if I would like to go on the March of the Living trip with her and other Survivors.

I had just gotten married and had plans of starting a family in the near future and I wasn't sure when I would have an opportunity like this again. As I thought more and more about it, I became a little bit nervous. I didn't know what to expect, what I would see, hear, or feel. Would I see things that I see at the museum or in books? Would it be everything, or more, that I learned about? I was also scared, scared to see what people had suffered through, just like those members of my family that have perished and those that have survived. I knew it would be a difficult trip and one that I would never forget as long as I live.

In preparation for the trip, I had reviewed the literature that was sent to me. I also talked with others who have been to Poland. My husband went in high school, so we often spoke about it. He took some pictures, but for some reason, I couldn't bear to look at them. I guess I wanted to see things for myself and to gather my thoughts in person. Growing up, I never had the chance to speak with my maternal grandparents about their lives. In a sense, I felt it was an obligation of me to attend the trip, to see things that people, including my family, have endured during the Holocaust.

On May 3, 2005, my mom and I joined others to board the plane departing for Cracow, Poland. Once we took our seat, I looked around and saw people of all ages. I found it to be very meaningful to see Survivors, children of Survivors, and grandchildren of Survivors, like me. There were so many experiences that impacted me, but I will only share a few of them.

Destinations
It was cold and rainy when we arrived in Cracow. As we drove through the city, I looked out the window and thought how bleek the city was, no bright colors. I already felt a sense of sadness. We arrived at the Cracow Ghetto (add thoughts here). Next, we went to visit an old cemetary and temple. Standing inside the temple, I looked around at pictures of people and how the synagogue used to be. For a few seconds, I closed my eyes and imagined myself being there with members of the shul.

On May 5, we departed for Aushwitz for the actual March of the Living. What was I to see? How was I going to feel? I knew that I was scared, excited and sad all at the same time. I was happy that I was sharing this moment with my mother and the others on our bus who knew firsthand what this place was and represented. I would be able to have a glimpse of the world they lived in at that time. I also knew that I could never feel the anguish and horror that those who arrived some 60 years ago felt.

Arriving at the gates and becoming a part of this crowd sent shivers though my entire body. Here I was, actually standing in this hell hole in which millions were murdered, tortured and robbed of their lives. I was speechless at the things that were suddenly in front of me. My experience began. the entrance, the various barracks, the throng of people marching with a purpose all the way to Birkenau.

As our silent march began, I could feel the sadness and the heaviness that occupied the minds of this sea of marchers. I looked around, it was cold although the sun was shining you would think it was an ordinary day, the world still turned but yet I couldn't stop thinking of all the people who made this same trek, who had no way of turning back. I felt sick. Our group was lucky in that we had many survivors with us.

Sharing this with them was something I will never forget. I felt that they were very courageous in making this trip. They wanted to see a part of their past and to share their thoughts with us. Many of the survivors were willing to speak about their experiences. One Survivor, who found it difficult to talk about his experiences with his family, actually spoke to the group and broke down in tears. I cried along with him.

When we got to Birkenau, I felt a pit in my stomach. That image was only something I had only seen in books and video. The actual sight of it really shocked me. Along the path of the train tracks, many people, people from all over the world, were putting markers to memorialize those who have crossed those tracks 60 years ago. I couldn't get over the numbers of people who have gathered together on that day, Survivors, children and grandchildren of Survivors and those who just wanted to be a part of the March. I felt honored to be marching with the Survivors.

As my mom and I listened to Elie Wiesel speak to the crowd, we walked around the camp. Looking at the pictures that were posted in the trees, I became horrified. I couldn't even imagine being separated from my ffamily and not know what would happen to us. Seeing the mass graves, that are now covered in grass, sent chills throughout my body. Although this was hard to see, I continued to walk around the camp, not only looking at the remains, but the grass and trees as well. Being a person who cares about humankind and the world we live in, it amazed me how life could flourish from such tragedy.

Another experience that really impacted me was a visit to the Nozyc shul. Inside my group had a ceremony where we said Kaddish. Some of the participants got up and spoke about their feelings. It was touching and at that moment, I felt so proud to be a Jew. I thought about how lucky I am to be able to practice my religion.

The trip Belzec was also a rainy day. Seeing the grey stone walls, I imagined people climbing to escape the terror. As the rain quickly came down, so did my tears. It hurt so bad to see more small grass covered hills that contained bodies of innocent people. Looking around the memorial, I saw a community of homes right outside the front gate. I asked myself and then others, "How could anyone live there and have a view like that?" Are they oblivious to their surroundings?

The day before we left Poland, we visited Majdanek. Walking through the gas chambers and the crematorium, felt very cold to me. I imagined the crowds of tired people who were forced to walk through those buildings to their death. I was with a few of the Survivors and I had joined them in lighting memorial candles. Seeing a barrack full of shoes, I walked up to one red shoe that was dangling. I looked at it and started to cry for the child that it belonged to.

At the end, the group gathered around a memorial that was filled with ashes. I was speechless and just stared. I was shocked that those ashes were innocent people whose lives were snatched away. I looked around and saw a group of Israelis holding up the Israeli flag. I didn't feel it was appropriate to say anything, so I just cried. After a while, we boarded the bus silently and drove through the gate.

• Although it was a very difficult trip, I feel fortunate to have been a part of the March with other Survivors. I did not take any pictures because I felt the images of my trip will always stay within my mind.
• My sense of Jewishness and community has strengthened.
• Being a grandchild of Survivors I feel a greater sense of obligation to memorializing those who perished in the Holocaust and to honor those who have survived.