My Beloved Word
written by: Etya Krichmar
@etyakrichmar
In the treasury of my vocabulary, one word stands in its unrivaled majesty among the cherished gems of love, peace, kindness, and respect. This magnificent word is freedom.
Freedom is the bedrock upon which all other virtues rest. What is love without the freedom when you want to express it openly? What is peace without freedom when you want to pursue it without fear? What are kindness and respect without the liberty to bestow them upon others joyfully?
With each passing year, my reverence and understanding for freedom deepen. The sacrifices of those who fought for it illuminate it. The road to freedom is paved with tombstones. I do not take its presence for granted, for I know freedom is not free. Its cost is paid in blood and tears.
The brave souls who fought for freedom in the name of their country knew they might never return when they signed their names on the dotted line. Their ultimate sacrifice is not lost on me. It shines as a beacon of courage and strength in the face of tyranny.
As I reflect on my past life under the suffocating grip of the Communist Party’s totalitarian regime inside the Soviet Union, I shudder at the memory of whispered fears and enforced silence.
In the USSR, the very air crackled with the fear of retribution. The KGB’s menacing presence lurked in the shadows. It extinguished every flicker of dissent with ruthless efficiency. The arrests mostly happened in the night, when people were most vulnerable. Upon hearing the insistent doorbell ringing, a half-asleep person opened the door to discover KGB officers standing on the other side. With quick resolve, they shoved an ID into a confused face and pushed them aside, entering without an invitation. Inside, they calmly accused the person of a crime and ordered them to get dressed and grab a few belongings. The accused, surprised, did not know how to react except to follow orders. Befuddled, they kissed their loved one goodbye and disappeared into the darkness. Their fate was predetermined. Most were sent to Gulags to work the Uranium mines or Lubyanka. Those who disobeyed sometimes paid the ultimate price.
Freedom was not an option in a climate of oppression. It was a distant dream, a mirage that shimmered on the horizon. Even artists and writers labored under the heavy hand of censorship. The Communist Party shackled their creativity. The creative people had to obey to be recognized.
Yet, despite the darkness that engulfed most Soviet Union citizens, the word “freedom” remained a beacon of hope. Its resonance echoed through the corridors of my mind. “Svoboda,” I whispered, savoring the sweetness of its sounds and the promise of liberation to come. Sadly, people did not experience freedom in the country of my birth. Instead, they lived in fear.
It took seventy-four years for the citizens of the Soviet Union to rise against oppressors, who had their iron grips around their throats. By then, I was living in the free world, witnessing the transformative power of freedom in my birth country. On social media, I watched shackles shatter, wings unfurl, and hearts soar with glee as the Soviet people embraced the dawn of the new era, fueled by the unstoppable flame of liberty.
Freedom is more than just a word that rolls off my tongue easily. It is the beating heart of humanity and the cornerstone of our existence. Without it, our lives are worthless. Devoid of purpose and meaning, they become shadows.
We should never forget the precious gift of freedom. Brave and bold gave it upon us. All of those departed souls sacrificed their lives so we could live free. As a free nation, we must cherish, nurture, and defend our freedom with every fiber of our being. Freedom is our most precious inheritance, our guiding light in a world fraught with darkness and fear. Freedom is the most powerful tool in the world that changes destinies.
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