This is the title of your first blog post

February 2, 2015

 

I was only 5  when it all started. They took my father at night. I still remember that sad smile on his face and how he waived at us for the last time. we never saw him again.
Next morning my mom, my tween brother  and I were told to leave our home. They were deporting us to Syria with other Armenians.
They were forcing us all to leave our homes with nothing, only taking what we were wearing at the time.
I didn't know how many days we were marching through the hot desert, it was an endless hell!
My brother and I were crying and asking our mom for water and food, when one of the Turkish officers came to us and offered to go to their shelter and get some food. my mom was too scared to follow him,
but the turkish officer calmed her down and promised he wouldn't heart us adding: "we are not monsters, don't be afraid!
We didn't have much choice, so we followed him. 
After we ate a little, my mom asked if we could leave, but as she saw the officer’s malicious smile on his face, she understood something horrifying was going  to happen. My poor mom started crying and begging him to let us go...
My mom would prefer to be killed than to accept what he had said...my mom should've chosen one of us and choked her other baby... 
What could poor woman have done??? Did she have a choice? 
I don't know...I would prefer to die with my brother.

It’s been more than 70 years, but I still remember my brother's eyes looking at me when my mom held him in her arms. 
I realized our life would never be the same.
When we got to city Aleppo my mom lost her self since she couldn’t take the pain, she took me to Orphanage and said she is going back for my brother. That was the last time I saw my mom. 


Based on the memory of my great-grandfather.

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