Cecil

I can still see her in my mind. She was of medium height, a slight build, shoulder length auburn hair, brown eyes and a smile that lit up my life. She was a friend of my parents' and the "mother" I always longed for. Her name was Cecil.

I'm not sure when my parents first met Cecil. Perhaps it was before the Holocaust or in the displaced persons camp I was born in. It really doesn't matter. The important thing was that Cecil was a part of my life for several years and I needed her so very much.

Just as my parents had done Cecil immigrated to the United States to be with family members who had left Europe prior to the Holocaust. We all settled in the same Jewish ghetto in Detroit. My mother knew Cecil's older sisters from Europe. Perhaps she also knew Cecil. My parents were Austrian/German by birth but for some reason lived in Poland. Possibly because the area they were born in was taken over by Poland. I'm not sure of the details because with them everything was a secret.

Cecil had married very young and she and her husband were very much in love. I'm not sure which concentration camp they were sent to...probably Auschwitz.....that's where most of the survivors in our d.p. camp were from. When the Holocaust was over Cecil learned that her husband had not survived. She never married again. It broke her heart. But, unlike most of the survivors I knew Cecil was still able to love.

My parents had survived by constantly being on the run. Going from place to place, country to country, and near the end of the war back to Germany hoping that the Germans would lose the war. But, although they survived physically they did not survive emotionally. They were consumed with hate and anger. There was no place in their hearts for love...not for each other or for their children. Their only thoughts were for all the members of their families who had died. It's all they ever talked about. The horror of the Holocaust was something they could not get beyond. I agree that we cannot forget what happened. But, I believe we must learn from it and love those who are still alive. For my parents this was an impossible task. They were abusive in every way possible.

Cecil, whose names comes from the Yiddish word for sweet, Zeeseh, was truly a sweet soul. She "adopted" me as the child she had always wanted. Unlike my mother Cecil spent time with me. She would talk with me, comb my hair, play silly games with me and just let me know how very much she loved me. My parents thought I was ugly because I was so small and thin but Cecil thought I was beautiful. She called me her shayna maydle. That is how I got the childhood nickname of shayna. It is the name I prefer even to this day.

If my mother had to go away for the day it was Cecil who would babysit for us. I loved those days we spent together. My siblings were older and they had more freedom than I did. But, when Cecil was with us I only wanted to be at home. I remember so well the day she decided to curl my hair. When my mother returned home she was horrified and said I looked uglier than she had ever seen me look. But, I loved the curls Cecil had put into my hair with rollers. I wish it had been a permanet curl but the next time my hair was washed the curls were gone.

I think my mother knew how I felt about Cecil. She never said anything but I could tell from the look on her face that she was not happy about my relationship with Cecil. Perhaps she was jealous. All I know is that Cecil took the time to give a lonely child the love she so desperately needed.

Cecil died of cancer when I was 11 years old. My mother refused to allow me to attend Cecil's funeral. She was afraid I would make a scene and cry. Showing emotion was not allowed in my family. I have no idea where Cecil is buried....but she will live forever in my heart. When my daughter was born I named her after Cecil. It was a wise choice because she, too, is a sweet soul.

I have often thought that Cecil is watching over me. I hope that she knew how much I loved her as a child and how very much she has influenced my life. Cecil was my role model when I became a mother. It was very important to me that my children have a mother as loving, kind, sweet and caring as Cecil. I hope I have not disappointed her.

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I wrote the following poem for the woman who gave birth to me
but was never really a mother to me

WHY I tried so hard to make you love me But your love could not be bought I tried so hard to be the daughter you wanted Your praise was all I sought I tried so hard to make you love me But it was all for naught © shaynamaydle