Saturday.

I put off writing this blog because I didn’t want to relive the events of Saturday.  I didn’t want to write this blog at all because explaining the emotions of the experience of Saturday is impossible.  I'm going to do my best.

After we arrived at our destination, my anxiety surpassed.  At first, I was okay.  I thought “okay, this isn’t going to be as bad as I thought. I’m going to be okay.”  We approached the building and it slowly became real.  Pictures.  Giant Pictures.  Men, women, children flowing off of the trains.  People lined up to learn their fate. 

Left: Gas chambers. Right: Working to their death. 

A fate that was decided in less than 10 seconds. Of course those in the pictures had no idea the future that lie in front of them.  Some were seen smiling, thinking that they were there to work towards a better future; a better life.  Smiling. Minutes before their lives ended.  

It hadn’t set in quite yet.  

The second building. That’s what got me. That is what haunts me. 

They told us that there is only one room that we were not allowed to take photos in.  I didn’t understand that this was THE room.  This room changed me.  To the left and to the right were piles of hair.  MOUNTAINS of hair.  Hair from thousands and thousands of people.  Thousands and thousands of people that were no longer alive.  Thousands and thousands of people that were defenseless and still beaten and forced to work for the people that were beating them.  Thousands and thousands of people that were told that were brutally murdered for the country they lived in or the religion they were born into.

It wasn’t just hair. One FULL room of hair.  Ten foot tall and at least twenty feet wide.  Hair. Another room filled with shoes.  

Another with pots and pans.

Another with luggage.

It went on and on.

Then, there was a box. A box with baby clothes, baby shoes, and certificates for those said babies.  Babies that were gone.  Babies that are in heaven.

My body hated me.  My body was in shock.  The tears stopped at my eyes.  Unable to cry, unable to let it out. I physically felt 50 pounds heavier. My stomach was in knots.  Knots that were ready to come out.  Fighting back the urge to let the McDonald’s I had ate just hours before onto the floor, I continued to walk. Blankly, I walked. 

I said I didn’t want to write this.  I still don’t.  This is the hardest blog I’ve had to write.  

But I’m going to keep going.

A little later, we went into the building with the cells of the prisoners. Pictures of all the prisoners lined the walls.  Men and Women.  Twin sized mattresses lined the floor.  Maybe thirty of them.  Thirty mattresses for one to two THOUSAND people.  Two thousand people per room.  That was for those that were lucky.  “Standing Rooms.”  In a 3 feet by 3 feet “room” four people would have to stand all night.  They would have to stand all night and then have to go work 11 hour days just to have to go right back into the standing rooms.

People had to go through this. 

People did this to other people.  

I was there. Right where they had once stood.

There are people still living in this world that had to go through this.

There are people still living in this world that did this to other people.

A lot more was learned on Saturday.  I could go on, but I’m not going to. Saturday was a day that I will forever remember.

I am changed.

Saturday.  Saturday I walked into a place that unspeakable things happened.  Saturday I stood where thousands of people died.  Saturday I went to Auschwitz.