Remembering Adelhide “Tilla” Benjamin: A Life of Strength, Survival, and Quiet Joy
Some people enter our lives quietly but leave a lasting mark. Adelhide “Tilla” Benjamin was one of those people — a neighbor who became family, a Holocaust survivor whose resilience shaped every moment of her life, and a woman whose simple joy in the everyday was unforgettable.
Tilla first connected with our family through her kindness. She was a gentle, attentive neighbor to my mother, and after my mother passed away, she turned her warmth toward me. With no children of her own and only a few aging relatives, she slowly became part of our extended family. We shared holidays, Sunday dinners, celebrations — even a 90th birthday party that moved her deeply.
Tilla rarely spoke about her past, but what she carried told her story. She survived the 1939 voyage of the MS St. Louis, a ship of over 900 Jewish refugees denied entry into the United States and Canada. Because she possessed the correct paperwork — and, in truth, because of her fierce persistence — she was one of the very few allowed to disembark in Havana and make her way safely to America. Many who returned to Europe did not survive the Holocaust. Tilla never forgot what she escaped.
She saved every document. She saved scraps of paper with the date of her arrival. She saved German prayer books packed for her when she fled. Gratitude and survival were woven into every part of her life.
But more than anything, she loved simple joys. The changing seasons. The crispness of winter air. Budding flowers in the spring. Baking cookies — and even at 93, planning to make me her beloved “lindser pie” when she returned home from the hospital.
She never returned home.
Tilla lived with strength, humor, stubbornness, and a quiet appreciation for the world around her. She was not fragile — she was a survivor. And every time I see linzer torte on a menu, I order it, smile, and think of Mrs. B: her kindness, her spirit, and the long life she cherished.
Her memory is one worth keeping alive.