Why People Leave Our Lives?

All the life we meet and lose some nice people. Some people pass through our lives and we don't even realize they were there beside us, while some people stay forever engraved in our hearts.  But there comes a time when those people have played certain role in our lives and they walk away, like they've never known us.  Later we will meet   some other people,which can be better or worse of those who have left us.  And their departure leave us with millions unanswered questions and with the grief in our hearts, we wonder why people leave,and usually those who have meant a lot to us, with whom we have shared both, good and bad and right and wrong.. And they usually leave when we least expect it, when everything looks great and fine.

People come and go. Some remain long in our lives and then disappear, far away from our eyes. And why did they walked away? Maybe they went to move on. In life there are too many 'maybe' and 'probably'. Likewise, friends come and go, love come and go. 

That's how it goes in life. They were a big part of our lives, they were important people, someone we could not live without, but we we can not keep them by our side if they don't wanna stay. We ask ourselves often: is it our fault? But the fact is that nobody is to blame.Such is life, everyone follow its fate. 

And so the whole of our lives, we meet and lose friends, love, but what remains eternally with us are our memories and the impact that those people made on us. Some people come into our lives and change us for the better, some of them we change for the better, but then comes that moment when each of us walk away. Everything has its beginning and the end, there is a time for happiness, sadness, new love, for life and death. And every end is a new beginning. 

 I have lost so many nice people in my life, and I used to wonder, will they ever come back, will I ever see them again, do they still remember me?Have I done something wrong, have I hurt them unknowingly and made them leave? But then I stopped questioning myself and learned to live with it, (although deep inside I feel sadness and regret 'cause I couldn't keep them in my life) , and I know that even these people I'm close with now will leave one day,or maybe will not walk away, but there is a possibility that I myself will change, or they will change and we will not be so close anymore, won't share same interests, opinions, attitudes, priorities.

And that's sad, but life must go on, with those who have gone or without them. The only thing left are the memories of them, and the impression that they made on us. 

There is also a hope- Maybe they will come back when they realize what they have left behind. But can you wait forever or at least that part of eternity called life? Is something worth of waiting for? That only your heart can tell.. If you have lost someone, someone who took away part of your soul, then you will always hope-they will come back. And what is life without hope, without expectations? All you have is time- it will either bring them back to your life- or maybe, you will forget over the time. Till then you can only live with the memories you shared with them.

Pictures of first flight of the LCA NP-1

The maiden flight of the Naval variant of the Light Combat Aircraft (LCA) NP-1 was carried out successfully on 27th April 2012 from HAL Airport, Bangalore. LCA Is a lightweight multirole jet fighter developed by India. It is a tailless, compound delta wing design powered by a single engine. Below is few pictures of that historic occasion. 

Memoirs from the Death Camps

Yesterday night when I reading blogs of my buddies at 2wapworld… I read one touching blog written by my sister Amela. Today I requested her to allow me posting her work here at my blog… and kindly she permitted me to post it. I am thankful to my dear sister Amela Leyla Hodzych for allowing me to share her blog here.

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Memoirs from the Death Camps 

The early morning. The stagnant air. The silence. Everything has stopped. Outside. In the hall. In us. Like pearls threaded along the walls, the prisoners. Are we all here?

Good, no one is missing. They won't have to make a new list. The same routine. Only few are sleeping. Or seems to be asleep. Others are sitting in a twilight, and gazing at themselves a recognizable point. What are they thinking? How are they?

The wounds are healing. Intolerable pain. The uncertainty and fear. It's not the fear of beatings, or death. The fear is something in between, vague and unattainable, unpredictable, when everything stops and waits.

When they beat, first they kill the fear. Simply, you hear your name, it stuffiness the air, it hit the wall somewhere next to you and bounce off like a wedge and crashes down there in the darkness. You go out, without a fear, slowly, empty... And half drunk crowd is waiting for you to come out. You see human creatures, people with names and faces, with batons and rifle butts, bars, chains ...

Only the first kicks hurt. The tenth, fiftieth, hundredth - do not hurt. You see whiteness. White heat. Everything around you is white. And strangely, it's even pleasant, warm and sticky. And grudge! And defiance! They were masters of life and death. They have the power. I have love. AND love is the power. I'm stronger. I want to be stronger. I will not give up, I, I, I want! I want to live! Well, you will not kill me!

And now, with the first outlines of light, without movement, without saying a word, no questions and comments, we have finished, in ourselves, separately, one more terrible story. We communicate via eye contact. The eyes says it all. About whose have been those cries last night. And whom they broke the fingers and ribs.And whom they put out cigarette butts on the bare skin. ...

Slowly I perceive faces. Every morning I see a new faces, but the same people. Again and again disfigured. Each in a different way. Like an exhibition of masks from horror movies. Beaten, cut, and swollen faces..

It smells. Everyone smells. Smells blood on the walls. The air smell. And in the hall. Unbearable smell all around us. Breath of death. Yes, it smells like death.

And eyes. Eyes of hungry and thirsty prisoners. Everyone's are the same...Gray. Ash-gray. Dry and withered. Extinguished. Lifeless. Or mine are such and this is how I see them?
 
And the questions in your head...Are we going to eat today? Will they give us a water? Allow to ventilate room? Will we be allowed to look through the window? To whisper? Will they beat us? Always the same questions. And conjecture. And anxiety. And hope. Usually the unsure answers.

And when you by some miracle survive that hell, they ask u about the war. About the pain. Stupid question how did you felt, what was giving you the strength to hold on. And you just want to forget, to heal scars on the body and the soul ....
 
It's not worth to talk about the horrible killings, the human fear, the atrocities of people, it should not be remembered, nor anybody should feel sorry for what had happened, nor anyone should praise it.

It is best to forget, and let all that is ugly to die, and that children do not sing songs about revenge. I hope that my children will never hear the sound of grenades, of whistling bullets, standing in line for humanitarian help.....watch the death, struggle for bare survival ... I hope and pray that my children will never know the meaning of the word war.

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Blog copyright: Amela Leyla Hodzych

Pictures from: Life and Scrapbookpages

Evolution of the Moon

NASA's LRO team traces 4.5 billion years of the moon's evolution.

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From year to year, the moon never seems to change. Craters and other formations appear to be permanent now, but the moon didn't always look like this. Thanks to NASA's Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO), we now have a better look at some of the moon's history. In 'above video' (Uploaded by NASAexplorer)... NASA's LRO team traces 4.5 billion years of the moon's evolution.

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Video: NASAexplorer