Rose Kotono, 1924-2021

The below is written in the first person but is a compilation of the eulogies recited at my grandmother, Rose Kotono’s funeral on May 10, 2021, by three of her granddaughters, Jessica Herschko, Gabriella Isenberg and Samira Miller.

I can’t believe I’m writing this about my Babie who I thought might be the first person to live until forever. It is hard to know where to start and how to properly celebrate and memorialize her beautiful and long life filled equally with great pain and great beauty, but I must try.

My Babie was born on January 30, 1924 in Sëilush, which was then Czechoslovakia.  She was a vibrant young girl and she used to tell me that like me, she always wanted to go and do and experience. They called her “Hoiluch Ruchel” which roughly means “Ruchel-on-the-go“ in Yiddish. Her early Life was modest but wonderful.  Her parents were religious, and she recounted that she only saw her mother’s hair when they arrived at Auschwitz. My grandmother attended Bais Yaakov school only for a short time and had to withdraw because of Governmental restrictions on religious studies.  Until recently, she would wash Negel Vasser and recite all morning prayers before she would eat breakfast.   Lighting Shabbat candles on time was extremely important to her as it now is to me.  This commitment to religion and community and spirituality was something she instilled in all of us.  It’s not about the minutiae of the rituals, but rather about a faith and the recognition in something larger than us-she was a woman of great depth.  When she was only 17, the Nazi’s tore her away from everything. She was instantly an orphan without siblings or a childhood. She endured and survived Auschwitz and returned, as most people did after they were liberated, to the town which she left, hoping to find a family member who miraculously survived. After days of waiting on the train platform to find someone who had survived, she was reunited was my Yankele Zeidy who had courted her when she was only 15 until the Nazi’s broke them apart too. As she told the story, my Zeidy proposed marriage one night while no one was around and when she asked who would witness this promise, he said that the ever-present moon will be their witness. With saddened hearts and empty pockets, they were the first couple to marry on July 22, 1945 in Vinogradov after the war and from that point on, they started to rebuild.

Among the basic tasks of starting anew, my grandmother made the time and used her energy to help others.  One of the most selfless roles she took on was being a foster mother to a baby while his mother battled Tuberculosis after the war.  She and my Zeidy could not allow his father to put him up for adoption.  Babie naturally grew very attached to this boy as she did not have any children of her own yet and was both devastated and elated when she returned him to his parents.  Another example of my grandmother and grandfather’s selflessness was allowing a stranger who knocked on their door after the war (asking for a place to sleep for the night) to stay with them for several years until he went to the army and even then, sending him care packages and after that, making his Chuppah when he married.

My grandmother was a doer.  I never heard her say “I can’t”. She was a matza baker, mikveh lady, and nurse to name just a few of the skills and jobs she had. She was a resourceful woman-from dividing a block of yeast using thread and distributing enough for every house to make Shabbos challah each week to making a full meal from one chicken (starting with soup and ending with helzle).  She made her wedding dress work for so many others who wore it after her regardless of their size. Many people came back to Sevlush after the war and carried lice. It was my grandmother who de-liced them. Boiling their clothes and cleaning them up-not a simple task considering she had to carry jugs of water from the well, boil the pot and repeat.

When fellow Jews were incarcerated, it was Babie who came up with the plan to buy their freedom from government officials. My grandfather executed the plan, and together, they saved families from becoming fatherless.

Babie loved the United States and the life she was able to create after immigrating here at the age of 51 in 1975 together with Zeidy. One of her happiest days was passing her citizenship test and receiving her US passport. I remember testing her on things like who the president was at the time, how many states we have and how many stars and stripes are on the flag. She beamed with pride and didn’t take her freedom lightly or for granted.  She worked hard as a private nurse in a convalescent hospital and was proud of her white uniform and hard work that, together with my grandfather’s equally hard work allowed them to buy a home which she lived in until her last day.

Needless to say, my grandparents were special people, theirs was a life and a love story for the books. The love they shared was palpable. They adored one another almost as much as they adored and lived for their family. My grandparents were the platonic form of perfect people to me. They were strong and selfless and fun and caring and nurturing and loving and classy and generous with everything they had. They appreciated everything they had, small and big, even something mundane like a piece of bread.  It was Babie’s lifeline until her last day. She was as happy receiving a loaf of bread as another would be receiving diamond jewelry. Throwing bread away was never done. She knew what it was like to be without it and yearn for a taste.  This type of appreciating for the things most of us find for granted was passed along to us and for that I want to say thank you.

Not only did I lose my grandmother and the matriarch of our family, but I also lost a friend, one of my best friends. My grandma was always up for anything. We watched shows together (she loved Seinfeld and the Golden Girls), we drew pictures together, went to the beach and the zoo and the grove and to light shows and the mall. We listened to music and played dominos together, ate “Voyosh Keńer” (buttered bread) together, laughed together and she told me so many stories from the old country as I shared about my modern life with her. My grandma was an elegant and beautiful woman with a real zest for life and always had a sarcastic and humorous voice and sharp mind.  She was a hard worker and an effective teacher. She taught me how to be a good person and how to be there for others. She told me that no matter who is hungry and asking for food to always give them food. I try to always do that.

I remember my Babie always cooking our favorite things: Shlishkelech, Kèmein Mog Levesh, Rantot Hoosh, Mai Pastetom and the list could go on for hours. I remember she sent me food to college through USPS and even just a few days ago she was caressing my arm and asking if I was hungry because her desire to care for and feed her family had no boundaries.

I could literally write a book filled with memories and thoughts about my grandmother and it’s hard to know when to stop but I’ll say, the world lost a great on Saturday.

I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about my mother, Edith Neuman for a moment. She is a woman, like my grandmother, who has sacrificed her own selfish wants. She has given us so many gifts but the biggest by far was taking care of my grandfather and grandmother until their last days and for cultivating such a beautiful home and relationship for us and for really showing us by example, what it means to be an exceptionally good daughter, mother and person.

My uncle Lipovt Kotono and my mother cared for my grandmother 24 hours a day 7 days a week to make sure she maintained her dignity, comfort and enjoyment until her last breath and for that I am eternally grateful. Thank you both from the bottom of my heart. I love you.

My Babie always loved nature and especially birds. She always doodled birds and flowers. She said that while she was in Auschwitz, she always envied the birds for their ability to fly away. Whenever I see a bird it’s all I can think about.

Shortly after Tom and I got engaged we came over to tell her the news (ever since I was 20, one of her first questions when I walked in would be “Sooo, what’s new?!” which obviously meant “Are you seriously dating anyone and are you getting married?”); she was so happy when I finally found my match in Tommy as she was also friends with his grandparents in the old country and it was truly a wonderful moment for her. When she asked Tom if he “zserets” which means “loves” me in Hungarian he answered her “ein imadom” which meant I “adore/worship her”- I’ll never forget the happiness in her face that moment.

Babie, ein imadom teidegdet es kosonnok mindenre. May you fly free as a bird and may you somewhere be reunited with all of the people you so terribly loved and missed all these years. You are the definition of holy and I will make sure my daughter will know you and Zeidy. I pray you will send me signs all the time and guide me as you always did.

My heart is broken.