February. I finally closed the door completely on a past relationship and that is when the floodgates opened to S' past. It is not filled with skeletons -- at least not the kind you are thinking of. Rather it is filled with the kind that brings blood, tears, fear, isolation and even death. S is a survivor of a horrible atrocity. Call it what you may -- genocide or ethnic cleansing, both terms that should never enter one's realm or vocabulary.
There is so much sadness in the world. In North America we have our blinders up, concerning ourselves with what are typically rather trivial issues. Of course this is not always the case, but looking back on my history, I don't have the same kind of tragedy, and for this I am very fortunate. However, this also brings with it a strange form of guilt.
S is from Kosovo. Formerly part of Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union, it has been dominated and ravished by Serbia since the end of the Cold War. In the late 1990s, it was the sight of what is estimated to be between 20,000 and 30,000 murders at the hands of Milosevic's minions. Oddly enough, in the article link pasted below, there is an excerpt from the NY Times published on my twentieth birthday. As such, I know exactly what I was doing the same day that these atrocities were taking place. I was partying. I was enjoying being a University student, a sorority member, a recent 20-something who had everything in front of her.
At the same time that I was doing shots at the bar, S was witnessing one of the most atrocious massacres of the twentieth century. He was just a child. From articles I have read, this is likely what guaranteed his survival, because had he been much older, he would have been of "combatant age" and likely killed.
S shared with me what he saw and what he remembered. I cried as I listened to what were the nightmares of a child revisited and the tragic death toll his family endured. Every aunt, uncle and grandparent were killed, with the exception of an uncle on his mother's side. He shared with me YouTube videos of the killings and I tried to put myself in his place -- a frightened child whose only crime was being born Kosovaro. It is not fair for a human being to have to see this and have to relive the horror for the rest of their life.
At this point, S opened up about everything. A further tragedy was his father passing away only six months earlier. What history this man had lived in such few years. When talking about age differences, S has lived a much more cruel life than I and this can explain why there are commonalities between us despite the gap. He has such wisdom for his years and such insight into life. In the seven months of knowing him, he has had such an impact on who I am and is a key contributer of my becoming a better person. He means so much to me and I just want to take away the pain for him. Sadly, it will be there forever.
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