Eric Mehmed is a farmer, but dreams about making musical instruments. He has brought up his twin daughters Alexand and Heyem and his son Farokh without his wife, Inajda (As Inajda is in the military). Eric is very passionate about his children’s futures, especially that of Alexand, who shares his obsession for music. For her fifteenth birthday Eric made his daughter a left handed piano. (As he thought this may enable her to play with her strongest hand) Six months after this, the family’s struggle to find food forced Alexand and Heyem to go to India to attempt to find their mother. They took their friends Jarad Vijay and Baio-Yujia Sun with them. Unfortunately the teenagers ended up taking drugs and crashing a stolen military tank into a tree. Alexand was driving, Baio-Yujia died and the children were sentenced to serve in military correction. Eric was devastated. This story features his regrets. He reflects about what life could have been like. He wishes Alexand and Heyem had the same opportunities that his own mother, Edith MehXian had. (She was an opera singer in The Chinese Hall of Excellence.) The future looks bleak for his daughters. (Eric’s story is dedicated to my own father, who was also called, Eric.) CLICK HERE for next chronological story.
WOW! Love this–very touching.
Cheryl, this drawing is a masterpiece…
Thank you! 😀
This is for you Dad.
“My stories and my world are dedicated to you, Dad. You died before I was old enough to know who you were. I will try to find you in my stories, to go to places far away from this world, to search for you. Maybe one day I’ll know you again. Until then I’ll keep writing. I’ll never forget you. “Cheryl
I just read this, on the side of your page…
I can relate. My father died, when I was 8. I had a hard time coping with his death…He was too young(44 years old) to die.
I think as writers the death of someone so close has a great impact on our work. (My Dad died when I was older, I was 21, but it has left a sense of loss, that can’t be filled) I don’t know how you feel but by writing I feel I can keep him alive somehow in some way or other.
I agree with you…I think how you’re dealing with your loss is beautiful.
Growing up without a father, was quite a struggle for me. It’s a long story…We have no time for it. 😉
Now, I let my father come in my thoughts, as if he was still alive. Yes, like a loony, I talk to him. 🙂 It works for me…
There’s nothing loony about that! 😀
Really?! You mean, I am sane? 😉 🙂
Madness and art are easily confused! 😀
🙂
Quite a sad and touching story.
And I would like to thank you for liking my poetry “Itchy”.
Good to meet you, Yoshiko, you’re very welcome and thank you for visiting and taking time to read this story! Cheryl
Cheryl, nice to meet you too.