I found it hard to have good memories of my brother Arman after his suicide. My brain and my whole being were blocking me from remembering and thinking of anything positive.
I was drowning in feelings of sadness, anger, and resentment. My feelings of guilt were almost destroying me. Pictures, emails, videos, small gifts from Arman - anything that reminded me of him, were adding to my anguish. Tears were falling like heavy rain. I could not think of anything good. I wanted him to be alive. I wanted to wake up from my bad dream.
A few months after the first year anniversary, I suddenly had an urge to talk about gifts he always thoughtfully picked and sent to me. Arman was a very thoughtful and loving brother and uncle. On each of his trips, whether it be a business trip or vacation traveling, he thought about me and my children and bought us special gifts.
Even before, when he was just a schoolboy, Arman gave me gifts.
I still have the creature he called Zipper, a character from a cartoon, "Chip and Dale". Arman had admired this Zipper from his early childhood. He loved the character's bravery, even though Zipper was only tiny. At wood class, Arman carefully carved, burned, and painted a Zipper. Then, after school one day, he presented his creation to me. I still keep and treasure Arman's 'Zipper' even after years have passed. It has no price. It keeps a warm memory of the beloved person, my little brother Arman, about his childhood, about the craft he made and presented to me with love.
One day, Arman traveled to Turkmenistan for work. He told me how much he loved the country and had a great time with his colleagues and friends. Here, he purchased a beautiful handmade camel ornament. Every Christmas, this special gift is fondly displayed in our tree and we think of Arman being with us.
I often take myself back to that warm day when, all of a sudden, we all got into cars and went on a trip with a small group of adults and children. We were never told about the plans and decisions of adults, and we only obediently followed them. The dust was like a cloud when we drove onto a country road, and especially when we were driving off-road. The bare steppe surrounded us, and I tried catching the horizon with my eyes. Emptiness around, not a single living soul, only occasionally dry tumbleweeds and steppe thorns met us on our way.
Unexpectedly, something scarlet showed up in the distance, some miracle was revealed to us; and before we could blink an eye, we found ourselves in an oasis of bright red wild tulips. This is the brightest moment in my childhood memories. It was like an incredible fairy tale in my gray life among the seemingly lifeless steppe, cold people, and their harsh disposition ...
Adults and children were happily picking tulips; they filled buckets, bags, and everything in the car with them. I just wanted to admire them and wished that this time never ended. The car got cramped by the buckets of torn tulips, and I was sad about such a short life of these steppe beauties. My parents gave most of the tulips away to the neighbours, but the ones we were able to keep filled our apartment with a magnificent aroma. I could not take my eyes off of these noble flowers, and to this day, tulips are my favorite.
Arman knew very well about my love for tulips. He bought me a gorgeous plate from Turkey. It was hand-crafted and hand-painted by local masters. During shipping to Canada, the plate cracked in three places, and I carefully glued it together. Beautiful tulips on this plate decorate my home and radiate the warmth of the love that was presented with it.
Arman also picked up a little mirror from the souvenir shop in Turkey and signed it with his handwriting, "Apashka" for me. We had very special pet names for each other. He was always my Amonya, and I was his Apashka (big sister in the Kazakh language).
The Caspian Sea was a haven place for Arman. He found peace and rejuvenation, energy, and strength.
The stately figurine of a horse that Arman presented to me has it all - shells and sea sand from the Caspian Sea. In this figurine - everything that was so close to his soul and to which his heart was deeply devoted - his love for his homeland of Kazakhstan.
I could go on about other items that remind me of Arman. His every decision on purchasing these gifts made sense. They mattered to him and were valuable in his eyes. I appreciate them all.
Thank you, my dear little brother, Arman. You had the biggest heart ever.
To me, your life was the biggest gift ever. I will always miss you.
You were one of the greatest gifts in my life and I will cherish every memory of you today, tomorrow, and always.
Your Apashka.
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