They say our life begins when we are born, but it is not like that. 

It begins in immemorial time with ancestors who lived and fought in circumstances outside the world today that faces us when we take our first breath.

I

 

know

 

very

 

little

 

of

 

my

 

ancestors

 

because

 

descendants

 

hid

 

their

 

story.

 

They

 

have

 

always

 

been

 

ethereal

 

ghosts,

 

amorphous

 

and

 

enigmatic

 

floating

 

in

 

the

 

space

 

of

 

my

 

consciousness.

Many years passed until I discovered that my paternal grandparents and their children were the only victims of the family who survived the Armenian Genocide.

                                           One day when I was not a teenager, he died suddenly.

They found him lying in the bed of his room with an open Armenian history book on his chest.

                            They didn't take me to the funeral and I never hreard of him again.

© 2018 Andre Keichian

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