Memory Holes

Ruth Hagen Nemovicher

“So in October of 1935 we left Germany.  I have no memory of it because it must have been very traumatic to me to know that my father had been arrested.  God knows what my mother was saying, maybe she was crying or whatever.  They never discussed it with me afterwards, because both my parents did survive.  But I know that all my life I was always afraid, to say that I was Jewish.  As children, we were taught to be very well-behaved, not to make noise, not to have any friends, not to bring anybody in the house.  It wasn’t until I came to this country, where I felt a bit more comfortable and was able to make friends.  All my childhood I never had any friends.”  (emphasis added)

“I had no childhood friends, no one to attach myself to.  Even though I don’t remember the goodbyes, I know I experienced them, so I don’t want to attach to people because I don’t want to say the goodbyes again.  There are very painful things that I don’t remember, but the pain is there.  I have a terrible regret of not having those memories.  I know that something is missing and I know what is missing—like my relationships with my friends and my family—but I just can’t get it back.  If I had the memories, I would still feel the pain, but at least I would know that there were people that I loved and that loved me!”  (emphasis added)