Everything had to be done quickly. There was no time for deliberation. I entered the house with my boots on, pulled out all our family photos, and started quickly sorting through them to take the most valuable ones with me. Everything related to my nation and the blood my ancestors shed was extremely important. Without hesitation, I took the photos of my grandfathers. Interestingly, I don't remember anything about them. They died when I was too young. I got to know them through the photos, studying them for long periods and asking my parents about them.

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My father's father was a teacher, a very serious and knowledgeable man who taught Russian at school. My mother's father was a builder, a smart and polite man who adored my mother. From their photos, I felt such warmth. I looked at them and understood that I would never see them. As the years go by, this longing grows stronger. I would love to sit with them and talk... They have gone into eternity, but they continue to live in the warmest corner of my heart, where the light always shines.