The Gena I knew always made me smile. She had a wry sense of humour and a particular way of telling you something with a knowing look.
She was the most glamourous woman I knew - always suitably coiffed, elegantly dressed and simply beautiful. She knew her own mind and never held back on telling you what she thought. She could not be won over with flattery - she was a woman of deep substance and did not suffer fools gladly.
She was known as the best hostess in Stanmore, with the best apple strudel in town. Many a journalist would leave her home after an interview with a generous supply of smoked salmon sandwiches.
She was a proud mother, grandmother and great grandmother, always telling me news of latest achievements, new jobs, new girlfriends, and babies.
I thought of Gena like a third Grandma. I knew her most of my life – the glamourous lady at the end of my street when I was a child and later, when I grew up, a person whose opinion was among the most important I would ever hear.
I always called her before Yom Tov, or just to say hi. We’d discuss who to invite to speak at her Wizo lunches – she always aimed high, and rightly - no one says no to Gena.
Like my own grandparents, she encouraged and heaped praise on me. I could do no wrong in her eyes. She was always so incredibly proud of the work of the Holocaust Educational Trust, encouraging and inspiring the team.
It seems strange to say that my enduring memory of Gena was that she made me smile. When you think of a Holocaust survivor, you think of the horror they must have endured.
Gena was just 16 when the Nazis occupied Poland. She and her family were forced into the Krakow ghetto. From there they were sent to the Plaszow concentration camp where her sister Miriam was killed. Miriam used to sleep on Gena’s left side, and Gena used to say that her left arm was always cold. She always missed her, physically.
On April 15, 1945, she heard over the loudspeakers: “We have come to liberate you. You are all free. The Nazis have got nothing to say to you.” From her family of nine siblings, only she and her mother survived.
Gena meant the world not just to me but to everyone she met.
Gena believed that she was spared to give a voice to the voiceless millions who were murdered.
She spoke to students, teachers, religious leaders, Prime Ministers and Royalty. While I’m sure she always felt proud to be in such esteemed company, her innate poise, grace and dignity – so obvious to anyone who was fortunate enough to meet her – meant that anyone who met her, dignitary or not, went away feeling they had met someone truly special.
When Gena passed away, I said that a light had gone out that can never be replaced as she leaves such a gaping hole.
But in the hours and days after her passing became known, the outpouring of memories from students, teachers, the Holocaust Educational Trust’s Ambassadors, and leaders from our community and beyond, reminded me that while Gena is no longer here, her light will never go out.
Her legacy lives on, in the hundreds of thousands of people inspired by her testimony.
Karen Pollock is chief executive of the Holocaust Educational Trust.
