The World That We Knew - Alice Hoffman Page 0,127

to stay alive, but now she understood. It was love everlasting. It was the thing that could never be erased. She had been made flesh by Lea’s love for her. She ached and bled and felt tired in her bones.

When she opened her eyes, the word emet was still on her arm.

This is what it was to be human, to be at the will of fate. This is what it felt like to lose a child you loved who had loved you in return. She was awake and brought to life. Being human came to her unbidden, it took hold of her, and changed her. She was helpless against time, the owner of a fragile heart. She felt her pulse and the human blood in her veins. This is what love did. It was a miracle and a sacrifice.

She went to the heron’s grave and lay down beside him. This is what grief was, she understood that now. It was never-ending and you carried it with you. You could not stop it or regret it, you could only keep it close to your heart. She could no longer speak the langauge of birds, or hear the fish in the streams, or speak to the angels, but she could heal the sick and she could find her way even though she was alone. The world was no longer a map, it was the place she walked through. She had no idea whether or not she would still see the angel when she tended to the sick and the broken. Perhaps he would look through the window or walk through the door, or perhaps she would not see him again until she took comfort in his arms. Either way, it was morning and she knew where she was going.

She arose from the grass in the first light of day, alive.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are many people to whom I owe a deep debt of gratitude, most especially Amanda Urban, for her wise counsel, and Marysue Rucci, for her generosity and faith.

Thank you to Ron Bernstein for so many years of friendship and loving support.

Thank you to everyone at Simon & Schuster who championed my work, especially Carolyn Reidy and Jonathan Karp.

Much gratitude to Zack Knoll, Anne Tate Pearce, Elizabeth Breeden, Richard Rhorer, Cary Goldstein, Wendy Sheanin, Mia Crowley-Hald, Carly Loman, Lauren Peters Collaer, and Jackie Seow.

Thank you to Suzanne Baboneau at Simon & Schuster UK for support for many books over many years.

I am indebted to Madison Wolters for historical research and literary insights, including an astounding ability to see this world with fresh eyes at every reading, with patience, enthusiasm, and a deep understanding of the story.

A most special thank-you to my beloved friend Jill Karp and my wonderful and invaluable assistant, Katherine Painter, for traveling to France with me on an unforgettable journey. And gratitude to Jill for introducing me to Facing History and Ourselves, and to Judi Bohn for introducing me to survivors in Boston.

Gratitude to Deborah Thompson for her continuing assistance with historical and religious research and her ability to get to the truth. I am indebted to the Visiting Scholars Program at the Women’s Studies Research Center at Brandeis University for bringing us together many years ago.

Thank you to Deborah Revzin for jumping into this book wholeheartedly.

Thank you to my brother, Dr. Ross Hoffman, for his mathematical expertise. And many thanks to the Hoffman-Nichols family from Paris and Vienna for German and French translations. Thank you Mindy Givon for visiting Yad Vashem in Jerusalem with me.

All historical errors are mine alone, but I was fortunate enough to discuss much of this history with experts, as well as with those who had lived through this dark time. I was privileged to travel through France with Pierre-Jérôme Biscarat, historian and educational coordinator of Yahad-In Unum who has researched Maison d’Izieu and the fate of Jewish children in France for the past seventeen years. I am so grateful to have had his insights as a French citizen, a historian, and a man of compassion. Thank you to Adrien Allier, in charge of development of the Mémorial National de la Prison de Montluc, for guiding me through the prison and its history.

Gratitude to Susan Rubin Suleiman, scholar and writer, the C. Douglas Dillon Research Professor of the Civilization of France and Research Professor of Comparative Literature, Harvard University, for her friendship, her careful reading of the manuscript, and her invaluable comments.

Through Facing History and Ourselves, an organization dedicated to the education and remembrance of the Holocaust and all genocides with the hope of confronting hate in the future, I was introduced to many child survivors, now in their eighties and nineties, who generously shared their stories. Some had not spoken in detail about their childhood circumstances before but now wished to speak, some spoke often, especially to young students, and some had written valuable memoirs. I am so grateful to all who raised their voices. I am in awe of your courage.

I extend my heartfelt thanks to the Gossels family: filmmaker Lisa Gossels; artist and writer Nancy Gossels; and most especially to Peter Gossels, a child survivor and an extraordinary man who spoke to me at length about his childhood in France. I’m grateful to the many survivors who were so generous in sharing their stories with me, including Sarah Miller, for her kindness and insights, and Eveline Weyl in Boston and her family in France, Henri and Claudine Moos, for sharing their histories. Thank you to Christian de Monbrison for traveling back in time with me to Le Chambon-sur-Lignon and for speaking so eloquently about a truly amazing life. Thank you to everyone at Maison d’Izieu and to the generous current residents of Saint-Julien-de-Coppel for allowing me to visit and greeting me with such warmth and generosity, and to everyone who was so gracious and welcoming at the Centre Culturel Jules Isaac in Clermont-Ferrand. Thank you also to my guide who was rebuilding the Château de Chabannes and took the time to open every door.

To my dear and beloved friends, thanks will never be enough. To Pamela Painter, writer and Professor at Emerson College for her early reading of the manuscript and her thoughtful comments. To Laura Zigman for always being willing to run away to write. To Diane Ackerman for sharing fictional worlds by the sea. To Professor Sue Standing, for her friendship and devotion to literature.

I will always be grateful to my beloved teacher Professor Albert Guerard, in whose office I write every day, and to Maclin Bocock Guerard, my dear friend.

I am so grateful to my readers for years of support and loving kindness.

Love and gratitude to my grandmother, Lillie, for telling me my first stories.

To my mother, Sherry Hoffman, I will miss you forever.