Bubbe's Place: Stories

The Little Grave

My parents were moving more slowly now. I suggested we return to the cemetery gate where there was a bench to rest on. As we walked, I caught sight of a very small grave near the fence. Intuitively I knew it was a child's grave. But why was it apart, isolated from the other graves? Had the child died before its naming ceremony? Was it a fetus?

Since I didn't know the Jewish burial rules within the community, I simply pointed the grave out to my parents with a questioning look. Mama's eyes filled with tears.

She said to my father, "Menashe. Wait for us on the bench. Flo and I will meet you soon." She turned to me and said, "Come, we'll visit the little one. This is an unusual grave. The story began in Koshovoto and ended right here."

This is what Mama told me.

Lena and Izzy were a young married couple living in Koshovoto. They were very happy in the way young people can be: romping, laughing, playing. Soon, they had a darling little baby. Everyone envied but also enjoyed their good fortune, their idyllic life. When the baby was about eleven months old, everything changed.

The cry was heard, "Jews, hide yourselves! The Cossacks are coming!" Lena clutched the baby to her breasts as she ran from the house. She ran towards the woods with the other women and children. Izzy caught up to her. He saw that the Cossacks, on their big horses, were closing the gap. He realized they could not reach the forest before being overtaken. So he pulled Lena and the baby into the wheat fields, where they lay, trembling, on the cold damp ground. Lena cuddled the baby close to her on the frigid earth. Thank G-d, the baby made no sound. Near them they heard horses' hooves, men shouting and laughing when they found small groups of Jews hiding in the wheat fields, Jews shrieking or moaning.

The wild search went on in the moonlight. It seemed as if the Cossacks would never tire of the mayhem. Finally morning came. Still, they remained still. The sun was high in the sky before Izzy rose to his knees and peered around him. It seemed safe. He stood up and cried, "Is no one else alive?" A few people rose up mysteriously through wheat, crying and sighing. While the women and children walked back to Koshovoto, the men searched for the wounded and dead. Izzy and Lena were shaken by the experience, but they thanked G-d for their escape.

Two days later their baby began to cry and cough. Soon there were traces of blood in the cough-mucus. Lena rocked and sang to the baby. Izzy ran to Mendel the Pharmacist. Mendel listened carefully, then told Izzy, "With this, I cannot help you. Take my horse and wagon to Boguslav and bring the doctor. Quick!" Meanwhile Lena changed the bad-smelling baby-cloths. She saw that the baby had der sheelshl, diarrhea, with traces of blood. She was dershroken, terrified, and zeyer troyerdik, very tearful. Lena began schreien gevalt, screaming, help! The old women, bubbes, came. They could do nothing but cry with Lena. Before Izzy and the doctor arrived the sweet baby was dead. The next day they held the levaye, funeral.

Lena and Izzy stood helplessly as the community put their beautiful baby into the frozen ground of Koshovoto's cemetery. During the week of shiva, mourning, Lena sobbed continuously. She had to be persuaded to eat. Izzy aged and changed overnight into an angry, driven man. He told everyone who made a shiva call exactly how he felt.

"I swear I will not have another child in this accursed land. A land where neighbors smile while Cossacks attack Jews is not a fit place to raise children. I won't father children in a town too small to support a doctor. As soon as possible I will get a horse and a cart and take my Lena West, West to the goldene medina. There, the smartest Jewish boy, the chochem, brilliant student, becomes a doctor. We will go West to a land where there are no Cossacks."

Finally he sighed, "Eyn Got un azoy fU soynim, One G-d and so many enemies."

Izzy kept his word. As soon as the shiva was over, he began selling his possessions. Lena begged Izzy to change his mind. "How can you leave our baby alone in his cold hard grave?" she asked. "Who will visit him? Who will tend his grave?" Izzy wouldn't listen. At last he had sold or given away everything. He had a horse and a cart. Into the cart he put a feather quilt, two feather pillows, a basket of food, and a wooden bucket of water for them and the horse. By force he had gevorfin, thrown, Lena into the cart. They started west. Lena stopped fighting him, but a steady stream of tears fell from her eyes. Izzy tried to comfort her in his way. He told her and himself that time would heal them both. In America there was more and better food. In America there were more and better doctors. In America there were no pogroms.

In America they would have a dozen fat, laughing babies. The trip West was no picnic, believe me. There were simple problems- such as which road to take. Where to find food for themselves and the horse was a problem. There were problems with vicious dogs and stone-throwing boys. Izzy controlled himself. He did not lash out. Better two or three stone-throwing boys than an angry mob. As they moved West, however, the problems seemed to grow. Into every uniform, Izzy read danger rather than protection. Border crossings made him particularly anxious and helpless.

After they left Ukraine and Poland, language became another problem. Only when they happened upon shtetls, villages, of Jews could Izzy and Lena relax, rest, and enjoy a kosher meal. All the way to America, Izzy was so farnemen, occupied, with the problems each day brought that he remained blind to Lena's suffering. Finally, after they were settled in America, he had to face the fact that she was very ill. She was shrunken and emaciated. She could not enjoy food. She had red eyes and no smile. She was always silent. His old Lena had had plump red cheeks, and a body to match. His old Lena had been a chatterbox, with a ready smile and lovely laugh. Had the trip to America-had he-killed that Lena? Izzy took Lena to a smart American doctor. The doctor said he had no pills to cure her illness. Izzy took Lena to see a doctor-professor.

The doctor-professor talked with them in Yiddish. He said they must see a doctor-psychiatrist who specialized in treating people with sick minds. Izzy grew angry. His Lena was not meshugah! Not crazy! Her mind was fine. She could read. She was learning English even faster than he was learning English. It was the doctor who was meshugah\ Finally Izzy turned to the bubbes, grandmothers, for advice. They recited an old Yiddish proverb, Got shikt der refue far di make, "G-d sends the remedy before the plague." Their considered advice was to take Lena to the Rabbi. The Rabbi would be sure to know the cure.

So Lena and Izzy sat with the Rabbi in his dining room, while the Rebbetsin, Rabbi's wife, served them tea and mandelbrot. The Rabbi listened quietly as Lena told him about her poor little baby alone in the cold hard earth of Koshovoto with no one to visit him and no one to tend his little grave. The Rabbi listened silently. When she finished her story, he closed his eyes and for a few minutes he rocked back and forth, back and forth...He seemed to be humming a wordless tune. His fingers combed his beard. Then he opened his eyes and cleared his throat. He had an eytseh, advice or solution, to offer the young couple.

"I think that you should buy a small plot in the Koshovoto cemetery here in Brooklyn, U.S.A. On that plot you must put a small stone marker with your baby's name. Then the little mother will have a proper place to complete her mourning for the baby. And you, Izzy, will look after the grave. Within a year you will both be healed. You will not forget your first-born, but by then you will be busy with more babies.

"But, Rabbi," protested Izzy and Lena, "the body is in Koshovoto, Ukraine!" The Rabbi's face turned an angry red. "Are you suggesting that our G-d~who could bring the entire Jewish people from Egypt to the Promised Land- could not bring one tiny soul to Brooklyn from Ukraine?" And so it was done. The mother had an appropriate place to grieve. Gradually Lena's depression lifted.

She never forgot her first-born, but she became free to love and bear more children. And yes, the food was more plentiful in America. The doctors were more learned. And yes, her American children grew up strong and healthy.

We left two stones on the small marker and hurried to join Papa.