“Love in wartime.” OR “Who ever thought war could bring hearts together….only to have them betrayed by destiny?”
“We, human beings, go through difficult situations. Even in the most difficult situations during wartime and tragedies, we seek love, hope, and a new life or future. We have our sad moments and our happy ones, and we are able to live them all together at the same time. This is how we all are. We all can feel each other, and we all deserve to be happy in our lives.” — Ferdi Ferhat Özsoy
His Story
Our whole love story revolved around that diary. She used to write me in the morning so that I would read them in the evening after work, and I used to write her back so she’d read them in the morning. No one knew about that. It was our special love — our little secret. Whoever thought war could bring hearts together….only to have them betrayed by destiny?
I was in the 10th grade when everything started to change. As soon as I was about to finish the 10th grade, things in the city became terrible. We were obliged to flee to the countryside. We were moving from house to another, in the village, running away from shelling to find a safe place to stay in for the night, just in a state of constant horror and feelings of unsafety. My village in the countryside of Aleppo was destroyed.
When we left Aleppo and fled to the village, my father opened a small grocery, and I was helping him. I was just working and studying until I finished 10th grade.
One day, in Ramadan, we were preparing for Iftar when suddenly a missile exploded in front of our house. We changed our iftar room just in case the situation worsened, and we sat in an inner room of the house. When it was the Iftar call, and we started eating, another missile exploded right inside our home. It was all blurry; I couldn’t hear or see anyone or anything. There was this noise in my ear; it was as if I became deaf. I couldn’t understand or feel anything until I started to hear fragments of sound — a man calling out “Is anyone who was alive!”
When I got outside, I saw my family. They were all okay, and none of them was seriously hurt, except for my mother. Her face was burned from the fire of the missile. My only injury was in my head. When I saw my father, he was sitting alone on the ground — frightened — as his tears seemed to fall down his face endlessly.
We moved to Manbij to stay there. My brother and I worked in many places to cover the family expenses. My father looked for work in every corner non-stop, but he couldn’t find anything, which made him very upset.
One day, my father suddenly falls on the ground and starts shaking. We take him to the hospital only to discover it was due to shock, deep sadness and fear. They gave him sedatives, and he was okay. We thought it was just a one-time incident, but he continued to have the same episode every month. One day, he fell, and when we took him to the hospital, he couldn’t see anything, he was temporarily blind. Also, he wasn’t able to move the right half of his body at all. Doctors told us that he was in a terrible state and that he had cerebral palsy and hemiplegia, to be exact, due to a clot in his brain. We brought him back to the house, and he stayed like this for 2 years. His situation deteriorated gradually, especially in his last 3 months. He couldn’t eat, talk, move, or see anything. His body got weaker and weaker until he passed away.
I wasn’t at home that day. I was at work when they called me to come home immediately. I came back, and I saw my father with his face covered. I asked my mother and brother about the reason behind it, and they told me that my father has just passed away. I uncovered his face and talked to him; I tried to remind him of his promise to me….he promised he’d get better and recover, yet he never responded.
Our life got worse after my father’s death, and things started to be difficult. We decided to go to Turkey to seek a good future after all the losses we had. We only had 300 Lira when we arrived in Turkey. We worked and strived a lot so that we could rent an independent house for us. We all were working. The landlord refused to rent us the apartment at first because he doesn’t rent Syrians. Maybe he had a bad experience with some Syrians, but we were not like them, so we talked to him, and he trusted us, and we were able to rent the apartment finally.
For me, I would like to continue my studies. When I was in Syria, I was very good at maths and physics, but I couldn’t continue my studies, after all that we endured. My father’s departure made me feel what it means to have a father and to feel what it was like to have to struggle all day just so you can, at the end of the day, bring something for your family to eat.
I have a sister whom my father was attached too. He was always telling us to take care of her. One time, I shouted at her, and she went crying, but I immediately went after her to apologize and when I approached her, she said: “My father told you to take care of me before he died..” My heart instantly broke, and I joined her in crying.
We were learning Turkish and working at the same time.
My little sister is the most important person in my life, even more, important than my own life. I have dedicated myself to work hard, so that she may have a good life, to make her able to study. She is a quite lovely and smart person. I would give her the world.
Since my father has passed away till now, I feel the vast responsibility towards my family members. I don’t want them to feel it! Since then, I consider myself their father and brother at the same time. All I want from this life is to have my father between us again. I know it is impossible, but I can’t help but wish.
We stayed at my aunt’s house for three months in Tartous to provide treatment for my father in his earlier state of sickness. During that time, I fell in love. We were exchanging daily messages on a small dairy. Our whole love story revolved around that little diary. A unique, secret love. It made us look forward to tomorrow when we didn’t know whether we’ll live today.
One day, both families were around the lunch table, just chatting, when my father suddenly told my aunt that he wanted to get me engaged to her daughter. I looked at her face, and we laughed. I interrupted and told my father that, when he recovers, we will go together for ask her hand. He insisted and said, “No, I want to see you engaged before I die.”
After we left Tartous, we barely kept in touch with my relatives there. My father passed away and days passed, as well, until I heard she was engaged to her cousin. Days felt like months, and there was a pain in my chest. I ask my mother to call them and see what is going on. She was engaged to her cousin, and her family arranged that, though she did not love him. She is married to him now. Though it wasn’t my kismet (destiny), we loved each other so much, and I regret that we did not get engaged.
My message to all people — those who have their fathers with them — would be to sympathize with and take care of them. Usually, no one feels what their fathers are going through just to hold the family together. Other than becoming a successful businessman or teacher, my only aspiration is to have my family near me. It’s all I want. Nothing more.
