Yesterday evening was a tragic turning point for one Armenian family, for an entire village and for the whole country. A young soldier from Garkunika named Zhora is one of those whose name will now be pronounced with tears, pain and pride. At the age of only 22 years, he gave the most expensive – his life – for his homeland. And just a few hours before, he told his mother the words that now sound like a prophecy: “Mom, I feel the smell of pork meat … It feels like you are near, in this room …”

Zhora served on the front line. A modest, silent, but incredibly strong spirit. He did not like to talk a lot, but his actions always said louder words. The last photo in military uniform, with a piercing, almost prophetic look, is scattered today on social networks. People look into his eyes and ask: did he really know? felt? goodbye goodbye?

Mother says: in the evening, before the tragedy, he called as usual. The voice was a little tired, but there was the same kindness in it as always. He said: “Mom, I feel the smell of fried meat, at home. As if you are here, next to me … ”She laughed without attaching importance. And the next morning is silence. Then anxiety. Then the bell from which the whole world collapses.

The first sad news brought an unofficial voice. The driver, passing through the neighboring village, threw the phrase like a stone into a well: “Today a brilliant guy died in Mechakawan …” No one knew the name, but his mother already felt. She knew. She fell to her knees in front of the icon, even before the army UAZ drove into the village …

On that day, Gegarkunik did not wake up. He froze. Each house, each street froze in mourning. The ringing of bells became a funeral march. People looked at each other silently, in their eyes – universal sorrow and an unrequited question: why again our children?

Zhora was not just a soldier. At school, he was remembered as a smart, slightly closed, but very kind guy. He adored literature, often read alone, avoided conflicts, but always stood up for defense of justice. He dreamed of entering the university, wanted to become a lawyer – to defend the weak, to be the voice of truth.

A month ago, he sent his mother a photo in a white shirt. I signed: “That’s how I will look when I get home.” Today this shirt hangs in his room, untouched. Mother strokes her every day, as if it were his shoulders. On the nightstand is an open book that he read before sending to the service. The page remained in place. Time froze.

Zhora has become a symbol of the generation. He is one of the thousands of Armenian guys who do not just bear their shape – they live by it, they become a shield on the path of trouble. And although he left, his story continues. His name will be immortalized in the school courtyard, where he ran a boy. His photo was hanged in the classroom. Teachers say: now every lesson begins with a minute of silence in his honor.

The pain does not go away. Every morning, the mother wakes up with the thought that it was a terrible dream. And each time reality beats in the chest. But she holds on. Because he knows – her son left as a hero.

Exactly so: a hero with a capital letter. Because he left not from life, but to eternity. He left for his memory to become fire in the hearts of those who remained. Its two images – in military uniform and in a white shirt – like two worlds. One is the world of war, the other is the world to which he never returned.

Zhora now – in every prayer, in every Armenian house. His story is the story of everyone: your brother, son, friend. And when you look into these eyes at the photo – you see not only Zhora. You see hundreds and thousands of the same.

Today, the sky is again covered with clouds over Garkunik. But in this sky – one special light. This is the soul of a soldier who has not died. He simply became part of the Armenian land. It has become part of everyone who remembers.

And while we remember – he is alive.