You Know How Many Times I've Watched the Video and Tried to Find Myself in Your Body: Anna Hakobyan's Post about Taron

The wife of the Prime Minister, Anna Hakobyan, writes on her Facebook page:

“The person on the right is Taron Andreasian. He was 26 years old during the 2020 war and had been living and working in the Russian Federation for a considerable time before that. As soon as the war started, he returned to Armenia and volunteered to defend his homeland.

The person on the left, according to family testimonies, is again Taron Andreasian. The left photo is a frame from a well-known video where Taron stands alone against a group of Azerbaijani soldiers, armed with his automatic rifle. They offer him to surrender, promising to transfer him to some third country, assuring him that they will not kill him or subject him to violence, trying to convince him to capitulate. Taron does not surrender, he aims his weapon at the Azerbaijanis and starts shooting. And he is killed.

We have heard many testimonies about such bravery of our soldiers on the battlefield, as well as many others. Participants of all wars in Artsakh have narrated about their combat friends. Taron Andreasian embodies the collective face of all our heroic boys, simply because his heroic act is documented, and we can see how what we have heard so much about happens—although perhaps we could never truly imagine it in action.

Dear Taron, my relative, my compatriot, my blood relative, my brother, my son, my sister's son, my brother's son, my hero. You know, you cannot not know how many times I have watched the video and how I have tried to find myself in your body, your mind, your head. How I have longed to be 'you' and feel everything you felt in your last moments of life. I am sure that throughout all this time and now, as I address these lines to you, you see even the last cell of my soul, you feel me as I feel you.

In every similar moment, as well as now, we are together; I am with you, I do not leave you alone in front of the enemy. I absorb every millisecond of your being, every appearance of your voice. I feel how you speak with those people—simply, just to gain time, because you have already made your decision. I feel how every word extends this world for just one more second—the stones and the sky, the trees and the bushes, the soil and the asphalt, the joy of being a human, even seeing an enemy soldier, communicating with them, saying something, hearing something, feeling something.

I feel every single moment when you see a very slight probability of believing the words of the people standing in front of you, and a thought visits you for a fleeting moment—perhaps it is worth trying. But no, you are sure they are lying. You also know that your time is very limited, that either you must shoot or you will be shot at. And you raise your weapon first and pull the trigger.

This is not about the homeland. At that moment, your death or surrender would not be what led to victory or defeat; you certainly understand that. This is about your personal dignity. Until the last breath, it is about standing firmly on your own feet, keeping your spine straight, refusing to kneel, refusing to debase yourself, not betraying the values, beliefs, and convictions passed on by your parents, kindergarten, and school.

This is nothing more than a choice, a conscious choice. I will continuously, repeatedly watch this video, and I will find myself again in your mind and soul, under your skin, and I will share your choice with you. I was not by your side that moment—your final choice, that difficult, very difficult moment, but if that few minutes was only once in your life—it happened, it ended—I will experience it continuously, again and again.

This will be my tribute to you, my assessment of you, my expression of admiration, my only way to be with you. This will be my punishment. This will be my promise—to never falter, to never waver, to remain true in every moment of choice, to never betray you and your choice.

My dear Tarons, Abajyans, Mkhtaryans, Alberts, Alens, Arsens, Kyazhs, Gors, Azats, Gevorgs, Karens, Khachaturs, Ashots, Armens, Arens, Zhoras: my boys. You all, without exception, made a simple choice, a choice that every person faces almost every day. You, your parents, your families—women, mothers and fathers—chose honesty, courage, justice, love for your families and your homeland, and, in the end, dignity. You did not flee the country, you did not flee the battlefield, and I share your choice—today and forever.

My boys, people down here are a bit confused; they are looking for you in the graves among the dead. Some of your parents have lost their minds from grief, your graves protect us from above, entrenched in Yerablur. You know I have been to Yerablur twice in these two years, but every day I have lived with you. When I think of you, I do not hang my head low to look at the black soil; I lift my head and look at the sky, I see the universe.

I also want you to know that it is very difficult for all the boys who participated in the war and have not fallen, for all the boys who became disabled—they are both alive and not alive at the same time. They have a great sense of guilt for being alive because they saw you die and could do nothing. Those who made the same choice, who went through the same hell as you, are alive but feel shame for the living.”