The Last Survivor

She often questioned why she outlived family and friends. But her descendants didn’t.

It seems odd to use the words “fortunate” and “Holocaust Survivor” in the same sentence. But in the case of Liza Alpert (nee Blecher), who died August 2 at the age of 95 (“and a half!” as she would point out), it is appropriate.

Enduring the unthinkable
The loss, suffering, and indignities she withstood during the Shoah are inexplicable. She and her mother were home in Oshmiana, Poland, preparing for Shabbat when Nazis broke into their house and killed Liza’s oldest brother. Her father was murdered at shul that night. Two other brothers fled, but only one survived. After a long winter in Oshmiana with just her mother, the Germans sent Liza to a forced-labor camp. Eventually, her mother was brought to the same camp.

Through those horrible years and at various locations, the Nazis forced Liza to build a highway, dig ditches, and endure a death march. Insufficiently fed, clothed, and sheltered during a brutally cold winter, she, her mother, and a cousin contracted typhus. Only Liza survived.

Building a new life
Still, she was more fortunate that many other Holocaust Survivors whose entire families were annihilated. Although she was separated from her future husband, Leon, whom she met at the forced-labor camp, Miligamy, they later reunited, married, and raised a family that grew to two daughters, four grandchildren, and 10 great-grandchildren. Her surviving brother, who had fled to Russia and later made his way to Israel, eventually moved to Cleveland and become a daily presence in her life. Two of Leon’s brothers and a sister also survived the camps, married, and had children. Liza’s brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law became her siblings; their children were raised alongside her children.

A few childhood friends also survived and Liza cherished every letter, conversation, and visit with them.

The later years
Yet, time has a way of moving forward, whether we want it to or not. Liza’s relatives and friends aged. Their health became more frail. The funerals began. With each death, especially Leon’s in 1990, Liza lamented the loss of another Survivor and wondered why she remained. Indeed, as her own health deteriorated and she faced numerous hospitalizations, she persevered when others would have succumbed. Her family pointed to her strength and stubbornness and assured her “it wasn’t her time.”

Then, on August 2, it became her time. She was the last Alpert or Blecher who had endured the Shoah. Her physical presence is gone, but her descendants vow to keep her story alive.