Hamburg day 1....

As I flew in over Hamburg yesterday, I was overwhelmed to be entering the city of my father's birth. I thought about him as a young child, walking the streets of the old city centre. I became teary-eyed, but I couldn't decide if it was due to exhaustion or emotion. As we were taken from the airport in to the hotel, we rode with another couple who had arrived for the same program. I realized then how different it was to be able to  share this experience. This had never been a shared experience for me. Arriving at the hotel and meeting 30 other people who also were here to share this, was an unbelievable opportunity. Isn't that what life is  about? Shared experiences. After five decades of keeping this a secret, it seems strange and almost dangerous to speak so openly.

This morning, we came together for a meal and  introduced ourselves. As people told their  stories, I watched grown men and women just like me cry from the pain which had permeated their lives. Our stories were so similar, and yet most of us had endured in solitude. Stories of lost lives, lost homes, of exile and relocated families. Of living with damaged parents, of silence and secrets.  As I write this we've spent approximately 9 hours together and have bonded in unimaginable ways. We've come to realize that our parents and grandparents may have lived on the same street, or that they may have done business together. Puzzle pieces being put together, connections made. In 24 hours I have spoken more about my father and his life than I ever have in my life. What our parents could not do, we have begun. Like a Phoenix from the ashes.