For those who may not know me, my name is Irene. I am Barbara's younger sister. We used to call Barbara "Basia." Last week she died, and it was difficult for me. Basia was more than just a sister; as like a second mother she taught me many things when I was sad, she was able to lift my spirit. She was the best sister that anyone could ask for, and also was an incredible wife, mother, daughter and friend. I will always miss you.
Basia had a dramatic childhood.
In 1939, when she was only one year old, Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union began their occupation of Poland. The occupiers wanted the destruction of Poland, its people, and culture. At only four years old Basia was imprisoned in various concentration camps. As a result of the imprisonment, she suffered a prolongated illness caused by malnutrition and lack of sanitation. She was living in the small area infested with pests, roaches, and lice. In 1944, Basia and my mother were transferred to the German labor camps where our mother was again forced into slavery work and Basia was forbidden to communicate in her native language. She had to learn German quickly.
In 1946, my mother and Basia were liberated by American soldiers, and they went back to Poland. However, Basia was very sick. Not only was she wounded physically, but she also suffered emotionally. Because Basia was rather young during her traumatic experiences in the camps, she did not realize until many years later that she was the victim of Nazi Germany. However, her experiences haunted her for the rest of her life. She often had frightening nightmares that left her crying and awake at night. She often panicked when left alone home and was fearful of loneliness. Her experiences as a young witness to parents and children being murdered were the perhaps the primary reason she desperately wanted a sibling. At age ten she still associated storkes with delivering babies, once, a typical story to tell children how babies are made and delivered at the doorstep. Every day she placed sugar in the window, to attract storks that could bring her a sibling. When I -"the little sibling" - was born she seemed happy. But she later proclaimed: "I would rather have a book," W pustyni i w puszczy, "(In Desert and Wilderness by H. Sienkiewicz).
Growing up she spent a lot of time looking after me, like a mother, she was always ready to protect me from everything. When I was little, I knew that I could cuddle up in her bed. She loved books and read many stories to me. "The Orphan's Nest" was her favorite. She played the piano and loved to sing - she had a beautiful voice. We had the same teachers who never failed to remind me that Barbara was much smarter than me.
When I left Poland in 1968 for the United States, she came to visit me a year later. Although she loved this country also, she wanted me with her in Poland. Perhaps she was afraid that distance would cause a family to grow apart. But I decided to stay, and she would often visit. Every time she was in the United States, we both had a lot of fun. We visited various places and traveled to different countries. In 1981, the political situation in Poland was very unstable, and the future was unknown, parents were worried about their growing children. At that time Basia had only one child Richard, who just graduated from high school, she gave him permission to travel to the United States for the short break before going to college. However, he refused to go back to Poland and in his absence, Basia's loneliness intensified. Basia missed him tremendously. Even in her final moments she regretted her decision to let him go. With her son away and her deteriorated health, the purpose and sense of living for her was gone. She tried to reach out to me. Before she became very sick, she wrote: "I will probably never see you again, but remember I love you very much, my little sister, many kisses ...don't forget me, please! keep thinking of me always." Now I regret that I did not give her more support when she was slowly, quietly dying in Poland.
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