What About The Ones Who Are Left Behind ?

Emigration, a lovely term to describe the painful separation of someone from his lands. Can you imagine how hard it is for someone to leave his lands, the lands he was born, the lands where he belongs to, where his ancestors rest until the end of this world? I have the answer for you. No, you can never ever imagine such a disaster unless you live it. Everyone who left the land where they were born, left it either because they had no other choice or they were seeking for a better future. Either way, pain is great, passion of the land is unbearable. Leaving for an unknown future in an alien place... I partially know how it is. I was born into a family with roots from all around the world. my grandparents experienced this in the first place. One day, the people who were in charge changed, and forced them to leave. They became strangers to the lands they were born into. Their religion was identified as the "enemies" religion. They could not be trusted anymore. Wealth, education, prosperity. They were all designated for the real owners of their country now. In the end, they had no choice, they left. They left the graves of their ancestors, the houses that they were born, the places where they worshipped for hundreds of years. They left it with pain, with shock. They were leaving for a better future for themselves and their descendants. I can honestly say that they achieved what they wanted. But until this day, I know that they wish they could stay in their lands. They didn't want to leave any part of it. I sometimes wonder how it feels for them not to speak in Turkish at their home all the time. Don't they remember the struggles they had all these years? Why are they still speaking the language of the people who made them leave? I don't know. I'd never asked it to them. Maybe one day I will. By the way let me mention that this story is not the story of one particular grandparent of mine. They all lived this pain in different lands. My fathers side of the family lived it 50 years ago and my grandfather from my mothers side also lived it 50 years ago. And my mothers mom, good old grandma. She had always been considered as a stranger to this lands. Her ancestors lived this story couple of centuries ago. I grew up with the culture of exoduses that were brought to Istanbul by my grandparents. Although I'd never experienced such a great pain, I could observe how it felt like. After all, history repeats itself. Everyday I hear someone is leaving. Leaving for a better future, escaping the dark times that are coming closer each day. The others who are still here for now, are talking about where to go. People just know that they are leaving. That they are leaving forever. People are becoming strangers to their lands. Soon, everyone I know will be gone forever. I know my turn will come, and I feel I won't be coming back after I study in the States. Maybe I just stay in the States, or I will go somewhere else. I don't feel afraid that the inevitable end is approaching, but I feel so sad about leaving everything behind. Oh wait, I won't leave anything behind. Without the people I know, nothing will stay behind. In the end, the good old memories will be the only ones who stay with us forever.