My grandmother, Clara Movsesian Russian, a survivor of the Armenian Genocide, was born in a small village just outside of Kharpert (now Elazig) called Yegheki in 1914. In this photo taken in 2011 she sits with her great-grandson, gazing at him in wonder. She does this because the Ottoman menace that intended to eradicate the minority populations of Anatolia was an utter failure. She will be 100 years old this October, and she's in near-perfect health, as she suffers from vision and hearing problems now. But she has the best memory of anyone I know.
April 24 for me is a celebration of life, and my two boys remind me how precious life is every morning. I thank my beautiful, sacred grandmother for the nurturing she has given me in my 42 years and the love she radiates to my children.
Labels: Armenian Genocide, Thoughts and Musings