Dear Murad! Yesterday, Thursday, June 30, 1929, our father prayed and blessed his briefly reunited and again broken family. I want to believe that in those moments you felt something, and you were touched by the spirit of comfort and warmth that once reigned in our family.
I do not even know where to start. The two months that our little sister stayed with us went by so quickly that I didn’t have time to really get a feel for her story of the horrors she and her family experienced. Fragmentary information about the situation in Russia, which occasionally reached us, cannot be compared with the monstrous reality that arises from the stories of Amalia. Thank God that everything is already over: her sons have grown up, received a secondary education and study further. Do you remember her children in the photograph we received a year after moving to Switzerland? Little Grant on it for some reason was dressed up in a girl’s dress and actually looked like a girl. And now in front of me is a photograph taken just before Amalia’s departure from Yerevan. Arkady is pictured here with his sons. Would you see how stately and beautiful they are, our nephews! Fadey is a copy of Arkady, and Grant inherited the beauty of Amalia. I am sending you a group photo taken in Zurich, where we came with Lyudmila Vladimirovna and Vladimir to visit the graves of our godparents. See for yourself — our older sister is really beautiful. When we introduced Amalia to Switzerland and its sights (I had to leave the children under the supervision of my mother-in-law), wherever we appeared, my sister immediately found herself in the center of attention of all men.
The thoughts are racing through my head and I can’t concentrate. In my opinion, the most important thing is our father. As soon as Amalia entered the house, he immediately, in the blink of an eye, rejuvenated and forgot about his sores. Lord, how he tried to guess her every desire, every whim! We all felt guilty before her, but we certainly did not execute ourselves like a father. But the days passed, Amalia’s departure drew near, and my father’s mood gradually worsened again.