Ina Robitshek

In October of 1920, Tamara and Jacob Dubinsky had their third child whom they named Rosina – Ina for short. It was difficult times in Rostov-On-the-Don in Southern Russia. By the time Ina was 1 ½ years old, her father had been imprisoned twice simply for being born Jewish and much of her family’s belongings, including their home, were confiscated during the Bolshevik revolution. Pogroms against Jewish neighborhoods were occurring with great frequency. It was then that the family decided to escape to Trieste, a small northern port town in Italy where Jacob had several family members who ran an export business. Along with her brother and two sisters, my mother grew up in Trieste, where she spoke fluent Italian and, with her olive skin and almond eyes, easily fit in with the local population.

Having attended a special art school during High School with dreams of becoming an artist and teacher, she was accepted into University in Florence, the birthplace of Leonardo Da Vinci. Things were pretty ordinary until the rise of Nazi Germany, that is, and the relationship between Mussolini and Hitler grew closer. When the Germans began their de facto occupation of northern Italy, things became difficult at first. Because she was Jewish, my mother was told that she could no longer attend University and her acceptance was canceled. Her dreams were temporarily halted, so she thought. But the worst was yet to come.

World War II began and for the next six years, life became a nightmare for mother. Her father was captured early on and, as she would later find out, was murdered in the gas chambers of the Auschwitz death camp. Her brother had escaped Nazi occupied Northern Italy at the start of the war to avoid being recruited to fight on behalf of evil. He stowed away on a Greek ship and came to America, eventually joining the US Army as an intelligence officer. Her older sister had married and moved to what was then British Palestine. She alone was tasked with protecting her mother and her younger sister Vita, surviving was now the sole purpose in life. Living in attics filled with rats, hiding in farmhouses in the country, and almost constantly on the run, the three barely missed capture by the German Gestapo numerous times.

The one thing that helped to keep mom sane was her art. Simple necessities like food, soap and clothing were hard to come by for her family. So mother used her art to barter, drawing portraits of the local elite in exchange for life’s essentials. Scratching on paper using charcoal pencils or anything else she could find, she never let go of her passion for art. Although she was unable to hold on to any of the drawings from this time, she kept the memories of them hidden in her soul.

Meanwhile, my father towards the end of World War II, having joined the British Army in Palestine after escaping Czechoslovakia during its Nazi occupation, along with his best friend Zvi and their battalion, had finished sweeping up the boot of Italy and cleansing it of German troops. They had been camped at their new base in Trieste. These Jewish boys, part of the famous Palestinian unit of the British Army, had been befriended by a small group of local Jewish young adults. It was a moment of destiny for those two - my father and Zvi.

At an evening gathering at a local club, my father’s best friend had met my mother’s sister Vita. It didn't take long for him to fall deeply in love with this brash and feisty 22 year old. Three months later they were married in a civil ceremony attended by his fellow soldiers. Of course, my mother, Vita’s bride's mate - attended the wedding. My father and mother met on the dance floor that night and for three hours danced until the blisters on their feet cried out for mercy. The rest, as they say, is history. The next day, my mother began spending every moment she was able to with my father. They planned on marrying sometime soon. Unfortunately, the joy of that moment of providence was short-lived.

It had been seven years since my father had seen his family or Czechoslovakia, which had finally been liberated from German control. He was granted a weekend pass from his unit in Trieste to return to Prague to try to locate his family. Three days later there was a knock on my mother's door. She opened it to find my father, exhausted from no sleep, tears streaming down his face. They fell into each other’s’ arms, both crying uncontrollably - he didn't have to say a word. She knew.

For the next several hours, my father told her the story: from arriving in Prague, finding no one he knew in the old neighborhood he grew up in and ultimately, going to the city hall and researching the records of his family. You see, the Germans kept meticulous records. And there, his worst nightmares were revealed. His mother, father, two sisters...his brother-in-law and niece... aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents...all murdered...in the Nazi death camps. He alone was left.

Three months later, he and my mother married, moved to British Palestine with my aunt and uncle, joining my mother's oldest sister Olga and her husband Jacob, the family began to put the pieces of life back together. There, mom took up her art again, joining a group where she continued to perfect her first love of charcoal portraitures. Life continued full of adventures for my mother, some good, some not so good. My brother’s birth in 1948; my father’s many brushes with death during Israel's war of independence and facing the constant threat of Arab terrorism in the Middle East; my brother falling ill contracting and surviving polio; multiple miscarriages trying desperately to have another child; the excitement of her move to America in 1958 to join my grandmother and uncle in California who had come to the US after WWII; and the surprise birth of her second son at the age of 40 in 1960 - that would be me.

Life moved along, year after year. She sustained many more heartbreaks…the sudden death of my brother, her first-born at the young age of 31, which left 2 young boys - my nephews Greg and Adam at the age of 4 and 1 - fatherless and truly devastated my mother and father; the subsequent loss of my father much too young in 1995; the loss of her two beloved nephews Gabby and Willy in Israel - the first to a terrorist land mine in 1967, the second to cancer; the death of her mother, brother and more recently her two beloved sisters Vita and Olga.

She also had many joyous occasions: helping to raise the two boys - her loves Greg and Adam; the birth of her other loves, her youngest grandchildren Nicole and Danielle; and then three great grandchildren; her move back to Israel at the age of 82 to spend 3 beautiful years with her sisters, looked after by her wonderful niece Ruthi and spending time with all her dearest family there, just to name a few.

Ultimately, however, she was the sole member left of her generation and alone carried the torch and the vivid memories of the joys and struggles of the past for a short while.

Throughout her years, the one passion that never faded was her art. She continued drawing portraits of herself, her family, her friends, and her neighbors; anyone that would sit long enough to model for her. It was always her “safe place” - that no matter what this world could throw at her, a joyful moment can be frozen in time by the creativity of expression from the soul and the hand of the artist.

At the young age of 89, mom made the journey with me to Rome, Georgia from California. She enjoyed a wonderful 4 years here although her health began to fail. Just a few months back, she was able to spend time with my daughters Nicole and Danielle now 27 and 24, as her health deteriorated rapidly. On July 23rd of 2014, although she fought hard with all the strength she developed through the years of heartache and tragedy, her body gave up.

Over the past decade or so, she was no longer able to draw - having become nearly blind from macular degeneration and paralyzed by a spinal condition. But, she remained mentally as sharp and vibrant as the young girl who first picked up a charcoal pencil nearly 80 years ago. As she entered into the heavenlies today transformed and triumphant, the faces once alive that were penciled on portraits to keep her memories strong, have themselves transformed into the living again as they dance together free and easy. God's gift to her I'm sure is a box of charcoal pencils to draw the Glorious image of the Creator as she meets Him face to face.

She is survived by myself and my wife Amy, my daughters Nicole and Danielle; her son Benjamin’s children (may his memory be blessed), Greg and Adam and their wives Rene and Ryan and 3 great-grandchildren Benjamin, Brooke and Madison; as well as her daughter-in-law Gale. She is also survived by her Israeli family: niece and nephew Ruthi and Yitzhak Haddar, their children Limor and Ram and Limor’s 3 children; her niece Rona Sarfaty and her children Itai and Lotem and their children; and great nephews Ronen and Sharon, sons of her nephew Gabby Leonzini (may his memory be blessed) and their children; her niece Shula, wife of her nephew Willy (may his memory be blessed) and their children Rotem and Mor and Sharon and their children; all of whom she loves dearly and who have remained in close contact with her through the years.

May we carry on her legacy and may her memory be blessed. Daniel Robitshek – Rome, Ga

M​Ina Robitshek, 93, of Rome, Georgia, formerly of Sherman Oaks, California passed away on July 23rd, 2014. She is survived by son and daughter-in-law Daniel and Amy Robitshek; grandchildren Nicole, Danielle; grandchildren Greg and Adam Robitshek and their wives Rene and Ryan Robitshek; great grandchildren Benjamin, Brooke and Madison Robitshek; daughter-in-law Gale Robitshek; nieces Ruthi Haddar, Rona Sarfaty and Jacqui Goldberg and a multitude of grandnieces and nephews and great grandnieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her husband Robi Robitshek, her son Benjamin Robitshek and her four siblings Al Dubinsky, Olga Leonzini and Vita Goldschmidt. Services will be held at Groman Eden Mortuary and Memorial Park - 11500 Sepulveda Blvd, Mission Hills, CA 91345, 10am on Sunday July 27th and officiated by Rabbi Noah Zvi Farkas of Valley Beth Shalom. In lieu of any flowers or gifts, please feel free to donate in her memory to Yad Vashem International Holocaust Museum https://secure.yadvashem.org/donation/index.asp or to The Joshua Fund https://www.joshuafund.com/give/donate.ortuary, Mission Hills, CA.