The very last thing you see at Dachau is the crematorium, and that really is too much to bear. To walk into a room of vast furnaces, then another where prisoners would wait to "shower", and then to step into a dimly lit room with gaps in the ceiling where the shower-heads should be... I don't believe in ghosts, of course, but our brains do imagine, do they not, the empty rooms we see now echoing with cries of torture or last-minute "I love you"s; it is a good thing, however distressing, to hold on to that, because the truth is it happened and the truth burns but it is better to burn and weep than to remain ignorant and cold. There is no satisfactory way to follow Dachau, really, as everything else seems far more trivial; but then, of course, one thinks to oneself that perhaps the best way to honour those who died is to simply live. To enjoy to the full that experience they were so cruelly denied. And, sometimes, in the midst of this living, to remember.
'Til the next time!
Links to Parts 1 and 2.