I recently returned home from a trip to Macedonia where I was visiting a friend. Well, actually, the person I visited is more than "just" a friend. Let's just say, I am who I am today because of him. And that is a good thing. I was in Macedonia for reasons that I am not at liberty to discuss, but what a trip it was. It had its Ups and it had its Downs. It had its Thrills, and it had its moments of Peace. This was my 2nd trip to Macedonia and this was to be the "Magical Miracle" of a trip. Especially the return home. I was so looking forward to this, I had prepared for this, my family had prepared for this, my friend in Macedonia had prepared for this. But......nothing prepared us for what really happened. Absolutely nothing. Shock, disappointment, thinking I might die of a heart attack (possible broken heart), and knowing that I would now be flying home, Alone!.. That was not in the plan. This was not our future. But, in reality, this became the plan and this became our future, our future to this day.
Thinking about this breaks my heart and brings tears of sadness to my already puffy eyes. Not a day goes by that I do not think about what happened and who I had to leave behind. Not a day, not an hour.....not one second. Tick-Tock.
I remember driving around in Kicevo and the outskirts of the city. We were on our way to pick up a friend/cousin. I remember passing by a couple of cemeteries and thinking to myself, "I refuse to let my friend die in this country and be buried in this place, this place that is not home to him." Yes, this was his home, his birthplace, but his "real" home is back in the U.S.A. in Springfield, Illinois. Springfield, where his adoptive family resides. And I'm not referring to mommy and daddy. I am referring to hundreds of patrons, friends, co-workers, and business associates. We are his family, we are his life that he misses. We are his future........................................we now mourn every day for this great loss.
This was the 2nd time I flew back to the states without him. The first time, I knew I would be flying back without him. My mother and I visited him and we were devastated on our flight back home. We just wanted to put him in our pocket and take him with us. But we know how silly that is. And impossible. The 2nd time I visited, I was to bring back my friend, and reunite him with his American family. But sadly, this was not to be. This did not make for a pleasant trip while I was there knowing that all efforts had failed. But all hope was not lost for I still had work to do and I promised him that I would not fail him. On the day of the bad news, I had a gift all ready to give to my friend. It was a pocket watch. Inscribed on the outside of the gun metal pocket watch was his name. And when you opened it, I had also inscribed "Time to come home." This was to be given to him upon returning with good news. I just couldn't wait to see his face after receiving the good news, and then I would present him with his gift. But, as I have said, this was not to be. I did eventually give him his gift later on that evening at a restaurant. We both cried. Well, I cried........he was strong.........but it was a tough battle.
The next evening was New Years Eve. Not much to celebrate but we made the best of it under the circumstances. We went to Lake Ohrid with friends of his and pretty much got drunk. We watched the fireworks and joined in on the celebration with music playing and people dancing. But we all knew the inner demons we were about to face. And it dampened the mood a bit.
Back to my memory of the cemetery and driving by them thinking "this is not how my friend will spend the rest of his life until his dieing days." I refuse to accept this. I refuse to accept the fact that I may never see him again. That my mother will never get to hug him ever again. That we will never get to sit around and have coffee and discuss the days business. That we will never get to enjoy a round of drinks while planning our day, our evening, our weekend, or our year. That I will never have the pleasure of watching his facial expressions and body animation while telling our story of tragedy and near death that was averted on our way back from Albania. I just will not accept this. I will not accept the fact that when it is time for my friend to go, that he will be buried in a run down, unkempt, dreary cemetery outside the city limits of Kicevo.
On my final evening in Kicevo, Macedonia, I made a short video diary for my mother. I had told her that I would keep a diary (thinking this would be a wondrous trip), but I never did. I also knew that I may never see this run-down Hotel ever again and I wanted to get my final hours recorded. Here is the video I made for Mike after my return home and the 2nd part of the video includes my video diary.
Video 1
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