The last spring

I remember once I had someone very dear to me, someone that left deep traces in my life, someone that would live in my heart forever, someone that I will never forget. In order to preserve the memory of this angel, a divine human creature, I devote this story to my friend because her innocence and her fragility has been inspiring me for years. I hope that many people will understand the hidden message once they've read the story.

It was a wonderful spring dawning. The air was poisoned with nothing else but the strong smell of the spring flowers and the joy of the birds' songs. We were holding our hands and happily as happy can two little girls be, we were bouncing and jumping in the park. Spring could be seen in our eyes, sunshine could be recognized in our smile. It seemed to us like we were flying in the air as two colourful butterflies from a flower to a flower, each of them more and more beautiful, each of them more and more attracting, as if they were the last days of our lives and each of them was more and more challenging. Smiling faces everywhere, people could envy our happy childhood reflected in the deepness of our sight. We were so excited in those spring rainbows above our heads without knowing that this would be our last spring together, remembered afterwards as the coldest one and the darkest one in my life.

It's funny how Marta and I met at a beach resort. We could never imagine that we were going to be inseparable friends. Although we lived in different towns we were together most of the time. I visited her in that fatal spring, in order to glorify the careless childhood together, to enjoy in our strong friendship, to celebrate life, without being aware that life isn't in our hands and it depends on the surrounding as well.

That morning seemed to be the strangest morning I had in my life. The dawning was different, dark, obscure and somber. The first rays of the sun didn't wash our faces as the previous mornings. We were welcomed by thick and grey clouds and a cold wind. We could hear a very loud noise coming out of the sky. Noisy birds??? No, war planes pushed away the scared birds and conquered the sky promising endless sorrow to us.

Marta went out. I followed her and I called her to come in immediately. She was confused and she said no. Her parents explained to us that our country was in a war. Our faces with a lot of question marks looked sour. After a while the bullets and the planes were gone and unbearable silence spreading around us. Marta's parents started to talk to us but we couldn't understand them anything. We were like frightened and tongueless nightingales haunted from their nest by a black eagle.

Marta decided to pick up some flowers from their garden. She loved flowers and her garden was full of them. I asked her why she went outside. It wasn't safe. She said she would make a bouquet and put it in a vase because she wanted to feel the fragrance of the flowers and she couldn't stand the disgusting smell of the weapons.

All of a sudden we saw Marta falling on the ground and she pronounced her last words: “Oh, it hurts so much!” She fell on the just bloomed flowers. Red drops of pure childish blood sprinkled all over the green grass. I was standing mute and confused in front of Marta's helpless body. I somehow found some energy in me and I screamed loudly. Her parents ran quickly and couldn't believe their eyes. Marta was lying dead on the colourful spring flowers she picked. We watered them with our everlasting teardrops and we melted the smell of her innocent beauty.

Afterwards, I found out why Marta died. A bullet from an unconscious terrorist hit her. A huge emptiness opened in my heart. The loss couldn't be described. Since she left me, a big part of me left too. For me life didn't have any sense. In my mind there were only black, dark and bitter thoughts, and my eyes were blinded from that tragic picture: Marta's dead body lying on the spring flowers, like it was a famous painting by a renowned painter. Whenever I closed my eyes I could see her smile. Whenever I opened my eyes I could see the picture of her dead body lying on the spring flowers. How could this happen. She was just a cute little girl with a big heart. She loved to love, she loved to live, she loved to smile, she loved to be a friend.

There is an enigma for me for the rest of my life: How can someone have the right to destroy the life of an innocent girl? How can there be people who are not human beings at all, but cruel beasts? Aren't we all made of human flesh and blood?

Today, on this spring day in May 2011, I'm standing alone, mute, proud, with a bouquet of red roses, in front of a pile of soil covered with spring flowers which is actually the eternal home of my beloved and never forgotten friend Marta. In my mind I could see the living box opening and memories jumping out to remind me of our happy life together, but there is also the fatal moment when the hand of the little girl reached for a flower and a beautiful smell, but she got a bullet in her heart. Although, it's been a long time since then, the memories are fresh like it was five minutes ago.

In my mind there is a false scale that measures from one side the values of the beauties that life brings such as the happy and careless childhood, and from the other side a life which is lost too early and the desires of the beast for power and ruling.

Leaving the red roses, I decided to send a message to all people, trying to get some answers . People, let's really be people! We should shake hands, we should help each other. Is there anything that is worth and more precious than a human being's life? Let's shake hands no matter what religion are, no matter what nationality we are. Let us be unique and united at the same time, let's enable our neighbours to be happy as we want to be happy. Let's give water to the thirsty neighbor, let's give some bread to the hungry ones, to the elder ones a beautiful word for respect, love and a warm home to children. Let the children's laughter, joy and happiness fulfill the schools, the parks, the meadows, the homes. Do not let the flying birds made of steel to shoot and to cause children's screaming and crying because of lives, lost too early.

I wish from every blood drop of my friend Marta to germ red flowers. When people look at the flowers, this should remind them on the lives which were lost too early and make them promise that they will never destroy anyone.

In the dark nights when I look at the sky, I can see a lot of stars glittering, then I think that one of them is my friend Marta, my dear Marta. With tears of pearls and a vow in my heart I address to her towards the stars, and I say to her: “I'll be a human being, not a monster. I'll help and I will love. I'll give and I'll live because life is worth living it.”