Postcards From The Memory Lane

[Dan]

Well, I was bored, and I thought about going back to my photo collection and found some photographs I had forgotten about... they brought back a lot of memories, life through war, what it's like, and what I remember of it. Well, my life was spent moving back and forth between England and Lebanon, as my dad was a soldier.. For those of you who don't know what was going on in Lebanon at the time - there was a civil war.. And so we moved there, and I attended an Armenian school... There is a pic of the kindergarten I attended in the album (link at the end of this post) - A friend of mine took those pics upon my request, and sent them to me this summer.. So yeah, I had a pretty unstable childhood, between moving back home and returning to Lebanon, but when I look back, it's as sweet as it would've been if it was just a normal childhood in England.

 

The pictures of destroyed Beirut are still in my head.. The collapsed buildings, the shattered windows, the ruined homes, burnt cars... I remember running down the street with my mom and the bombs whistling in the air, the tank just behind us.. I remember not thinking, not asking any questions about where we were going, but just running in the direction my mother was pushing me.. And I remember the scary nights I spent in the basement of an old building, which was supposed to shelter us from the bombs. I remember seeing my mom crying.. I remember how my childhood was destroyed. The only times we were allowed to go out to play were when the bombs had stopped for a month, and there were no rumours about any upcoming bombings. What I don't remember is ever having had a day with the family, with my mom and dad together. A war that shattered an entire nation, broke thousands of hearts, and destroyed my family. Yet somewhere in my heart, I love this nation. I love the people for the resilience and strength. I love them for their patience, for their hospitability, for their hope. Yes, I love the people who killed my dad and traumatized my childhood.

 

When I look at the post-war photographs, I can translate them into the buildings and places of that great war.. a great war indeed. for me.. for my mom. time stopped for us right there. I never knew my dad well enough, and even though I might've hated him for who he was, I wish I had been given the chance to meet him when I was older, when I could reason out, when I could talk... but no... the war took him away, and took my childhood too; only memories remain, and those memories are now nothing but old, forgotten postcards, thrown into one corner of my mind, and I wanted to revive them through this thread. if I am entitled to one thread on this forum, let it be this.

 

As I take a stroll down the memory lane, I remember the day the war was over. I remember it clearly.. It was not a day of rejoice for us. it was not a day of rejoice for anyone. it was a day of thinking, crying, mourning, and remembering. and so we did exactly that. How my dad was shot and what exactly happened I have asked my mom to re-tell a million times.. but not that she knows much about it.. we are told he was suspected to be part of a militia group, and was shot and killed.. i wish i had known what group that was, and if there was any truth behind those claims... i wish i had known... i was watching a documentary a while back, about a woman who never knew her father, because he was killed in Vietnam when she was only a few months old.. her mother knew about where exactly her father had died. they traveled to Vietnam, and lighted a candle there.. I cried.. I cried because at least she had a sense of closure. I cried because I, too, wanted to know the spot at which my dad had been killed. There were accounts about his location when he was shot, but there are no witnesses who are alive at this point. none that I know of. All gone. Lost. and will I ever give up the fight? Will I let go? I don't know.. but it's hard.. it's hard.. it's hard to have lost so much for a nation that is not yours.. but I have learned the meaning of sacrifice. A very precious lesson indeed.

 

Do I wish I could turn back the time and change things? Perhaps, but things happen for a reason, I'm sure.. Or maybe not. But even then, what's done is done, and I want to put an end to it. I have tried to do that more than once, in many ways, but I have come to realize that the best way to conquer it is to live it. So I have re-lived it one more time through this post. One last stroll through the memory lane. Closing it forever, and giving it to God, if there is any god out there.

 

I may not have done a good job at describing what really went on over there and then, and I may have sounded really pathetic to you, but if I have a right to one rant thread, let it be this. A tribute to a great nation - a nation that has seen the depths of pain and hopelessness, and has recovered from it with all its strength. A nation that kept on hoping when there was no hope. Maybe now I can be like them. All I can do is aspire. I might never achieve, but I want to hope, and I want to live, forgive, and forget.

 

http://gallery.cybertarp.com/thumbnails.php?album=1001