This day turned out to be full of surprises to me.
First, my niece. She’s 20 today. I’m the worst uncle, as I struggled to remember her birthday. Up to my twenties, I remember each and every birthday of some random people I know, even if I don’t remember the last time we interacted. But it looks like I stopped paying my attention to the dates. That’s some childhood fixation for me now.
But also, turned out my childhood neighbour and friend, his son is two today. (Time surely flies!)
I even have some almost childhood friend, whom I know for more than twenty years now, I couldn’t remember his birthday, and was forgetting to send him my wishes. To compensate this, my son chose this very day to be born. (Now I may forget that the friend had his birthday too at that day, oh I’m not a good friend indeed.)
But on top of all these dates, yesterday my colleague casually mentioned that her husband died. (They both are some year or two younger than me!)
I kept listening to her, then I asked ‘wait, what? Died? What do you mean? Is he?’ I couldn’t believe it. I was wondering why I don’t see him often. But well, it’s not too difficult for me to not see him. Before the full-scale invasion of Russia, they were living in Kyiv (yet they’re both from Lviv). I’m not a frequent office visitor, I work from home. I thought he’s in Kyiv, visiting his family from time to time. And they’re girls in Lviv, his wife and their 5 years old daughter.
Turned out that today — May the 30th — is his three years commemoration. Three. Fucking. Years!
He didn’t die, he was barely past his thirties. He was murdered by Russians, while being in Kharkiv.
‘He burned’ she said.
For over a day, I kept fighting my memory. I was super sure that I’ve been talking to him the summer of 2022. I remember our last conversation super clearly. I never thought of it as our last, rather most recent.
He was super moved by the war happening and started bringing humanitarian help to the front lines. It looked too fearless to me, I couldn’t afford this. I cannot afford this till today, and I have no confidence in me ever affording this skill of being that fearless.
His death moved me in some very unusual direction. I realised how easy it is for us to die. I’ve been through three deaths of my colleagues over the five years, two of which happened this year, if I’ll count him, Oleh. Since for me, it’s today, not this very day three years ago.
We weren’t any close, we’ve met a couple of times, since they were in Kyiv for most of my time with the company. But I know his wife for over a decade now. However, not close too. I’m not even shocked (too much) by this. Fucking Russia makes it super easy to die of unnatural causes any time. And hence many of us are used to people being killed by Ruzzia (for no reason).
I just started realising how super easy it is. To stop being. She mentioned his death somewhat casually, so casually I didn’t read it at first, and I’m not to evaluate whether it’s the sign of deep grief or she’s accepted it as a fact of life and moved on. But her tone, I thought that one day my wife, or my kids, or some friend of mine, they’ll mention me being no longer, in some conversation.
And they might ask whether it’s easy to transfer ownership from my virtual account to theirs.
And I won’t be there to help. Too.
Maybe it’s the cultural phenomenon now, us, Ukrainians, getting used to deaths all around. That’s the price we pay for unwilling to become slaves for some uncivilised unwashed barbarians.