11:50 AM, Poland time I'm on the bus now from Izbica to Majdanek. I don't feel how I thought I'd feel. I thought after visiting the spot where my great grandmother was transported to for a couple months I'd feel...different. My family is originally from an area of Poland that is now Ukraine. They moved to Austria at the beginning of the twentieth century, along with plenty of other Jews, because of the anti-Semitism in Poland. My great grandmother was transported from her home in Vienna to Thereinstandt and then Izbica. Izbica was a town that was one hundred percent Jewish when the Nazis started their occupation in Poland, so they decided to keep the whole town as a ghetto for all the Jews in the area, and also keep Jews there from cities all over Europe, waiting in standby until the nearby camps of Belzec and Sobibor could take them. My great-great-grandmother was kept here in Izbica for a few months, and then she was taken to Belzec, where she was sentenced to the gas chambers immediately. We have no record of her husband, my great-great-grandfather, arriving there, but we know he died somewhere in Poland. We don't know about the others. This morning, I struck a deal with my great-great-grandmother, Perle Rivke. I told her to come back to Izbica and to bring the whole family to meet me, and I would pray for them, on the ground she stood on seventy years ago, the very first time this has happened since her son, my great-grandfather, fled Europe. So I came wearing the watch my parents (my mother is her great-granddaughter) bought me, the bracelet my aunt bought me, the earrings my grandmother gave me, and the pearls I got for my Bat Mitzvah, a tradition in our family. I held the stone I took from our home in Israel to lay there along with a letter. On the stone I wrote Stern, Weiser, Loved ones, on one side, and ואמר לך בדמך חיי on the other, which means and He said to you in your blood you will live, with ניל״י underneath, which stands for נצח ישארל לא ישקר, which means the forever of Israel will not lie. In the letter I thanked my family for watching over me and family, Adi especially. Adi is what the non-religious doctors call a medical miracle, and what we call a shown-miracle. A hidden miracle is something natural, like the sun rising. The most obvious shown-miracle is the Splitting of the Sea. I invited them to his Bar Mitzvah, this Shabbos. I told them to go to God's Throne which we call the Respected Chair, the Holy Chair, and tell God that the honour of His presence is requested as well. I told them to invite the Army on High and all our forefathers and foremothers. I said I expect the whole event to practically be inside the gates of Heaven. I told them to tell everyone that I plan on reading all of Tehillim (Psalms) on the afternoon of Adi's Bar Mitzvah. That's 150. I'll do it between two and four, when everyone else will be taking their Shabbos nap. I told them to invite everyone to read them with me, and that I know they will be sitting right next to me when I do. On the way to Izbica, I cried. I sat next to a very good friend of mine who helped me get through a lot with Adi. I told her I don't know if I'll be able to go back emotionally for the Bar Mitzvah. Auschwitz made me feel stronger, but yesterday at the Forest of the Children... It was so hard for me. When we were leaving it, my friend put her arm around me and told we to find strength from this, but I don't know how. The girl I sat next to told me that it's okay if I cry at the Bar Mitzvah, it's okay. She says that she's actually jealous of me because I have after this trip the exact opposite. A Bar Mitzvah with my whole family and all that happiness. She says she sees it helping me. After the Forest, we went to a Rabbi's grave and we danced for hours. After the hard things, like Auschwitz, they do their best to pick us up. Rabbi H played his clarinet last night and he and Dr B taught us a new song. They danced with us in this small, cramped side-room of the building where the grave is and we were all crying of laughter. It was so wonderful. Rabbi H told us himself that he went from the depths of despair to the highest level of joy. I hope it will be like that. But I'm so worried it won't be. I'm scared. I think I need to talk to either Rabbi H or Dr B about it. I feel better after inviting all my ancestors to the Bar Mitzvah but I still don't feel very connected. I miss them, which is weird, because they were all murdered before I was born, before my grandmother was born. There's something I'm missing. It's 12:30 PM. I miss the feeling of God being right by my side. I feel like something blocking me. I feel homesick towards that.