More Tragedy in Kerch

For the second time in as many weeks, the Hope Center staff and program participants were shocked by an unexpected death.  Earlier in January we were saddened to hear about the local boys that fell through the ice on the Kerch Strait, but we were truly horrified to hear that one of last year's vocational school (known as IVA) students was murdered along with his father on Sunday night.  His name was Sergey (I don't know his last name) and was well liked among the staff and his classmates.  He lived in the same village just north of Kerch where he grew up and had been working to support his mother and sister.  His death was grieved obviously by those at the HC who lived and worked with him for 5 months last year, but particularly by Dima, our kitchen helper/landscaper/mover/security assistant.  He and Sergey were from the same village and came to the IVA program together last winter.

I have debated how much to share about the circumstances of Sergey's death, but upon listening and talking with some of our people here, have decided that a re-telling of the facts as we know them would not be disrespectful.  Apparently Sergey's father left the family as an alcoholic more than 10 years ago.  He still lived in Kerch but downtown and out of contact.  Having not seen him in a decade, Sergey decided to arrange a meeting with him on Sunday, man to man.  His mother pleaded with him not to go but was unsuccessful.  Due to a lack of witnesses, the next part of the story is a mystery, but on Monday morning both their bodies were found in the area near his father's house.  Sergey was badly beaten and stabbed repeatedly and his father had been decapitated.  At this stage, the police assume that it is drug related (ie. a botched robbery by junkies) but have no suspects.

With a good majority of the staff wanting to attend the memorial proceedings, I was tasked to drive a car-load up to the village.  Of the 8 of us, I was the only one that had never met Sergey and was hoping to be of some support to those who knew and loved him.  His family is orthodox and extremely poor (particularly now without their main breadwinner) so the ceremony was very different than what I am used to.  Tanya explained that the tradition is to place the open casket in front of the home at about 9am so that people can pay their respects.  At some point, usually around midday, they call for a van (sort of like our hurst) which then takes the still-open casket to the cemetery where is it is nailed closed, placed in the pre-dug hole and then buried by loved ones as the rest of those gathered watch.

All of this was new to me, so I needed to be subtly guided in what was expected of me.  First we each got a few carnations and laid them across Sergey's legs.  His mother and sister sat next to his body while alternately hugging and weeping.  I can't imagine the pain that his friends and family felt as they gazed at this kind young man's battered face - the poorly applied make-up didn't do nearly enough to hide the violence that ended his life.  As we waited, people just milled around in front of the house seeking solace from each other.  Artur, another of Sergey's classmates came and seemed in shock.  When the representative of the orthodox church arrived, we gathered around the casket as she gave a presentation of some kind before guiding everyone on their responsibilities.  I was asked to help carry a wreath in the procession that went ahead of the casket (the van was parked down the road out of respect and to allow for the procession), led by Dima carrying the wooden orthodox cross that would be Sergey's temporary headstone.

The van took the casket to the edge of the road near the village cemetery - his mother couldn't even afford a plot inside the grounds.  The diggers nailed the lid on with finality and with the help of Sergey's friends, lowered him into the ground.  We all took a few handfuls of the nearly frozen soil and dropped it in the hole before the pallbearers grabbed shovels and started to cover their friend.  One young man in particular caught my attention as he appeared to be a very close friend or maybe cousin.  He started to shovel as though it was his life's only goal was to lay Sergey to rest.  The more he shoveled, the harder his breathing got, but he refused to stop.  Finally one of the diggers forced him to give the shovel up and he stalked away.  It broke my heart.  In my mind, I kept seeing my buddies' faces, bruised and cold and I just don't understand how he kept it together as well as he did.

I like to imagine that Sergey made peace with his dad and they had at least a few moments of reconciliation before they died.  Please pray for his mother and sister who have suffered a devastating loss in a cruel, cruel fashion.  

Also; to the few readers in the US who knew Sergey but had not yet heard about his death, I apologize for the shock and rawness of my description.  It was not my intention to be brutal, only to express the emotions of the yesterday's events as best I could.