LVR💙 💛🇵🇸🕊 retweetet
Today I met my university professor… the doctor who once taught me Organizational Behavior.
I approached him with a smile and said, “How are you, doctor? I hope you are well.”
He looked at me with tired eyes and replied, “I’m not well… who are you?”
I felt embarrassed and said gently, “You don’t remember me? I’m Mohammed… you taught me at the university.”
His answer shocked me:
“Which university? Which course? When?”
I froze.
I started wondering… did I mistake him for someone else?
Or did he lose his memory?
Or did the war take something from his mind?
I couldn’t continue the conversation. I left quietly,
feeling that I had just met a man who looked like my professor… but wasn’t him anymore.
When I returned to my tent, I called a friend who studied with me and is related to him.
I asked him what happened.
He paused… then said:
“He is the only survivor from his family.
Their house was bombed… everyone was killed.
Since that day, he hasn’t been the same.
It’s like he lost his mind… the shock broke him.”
I was devastated.
I wished I hadn’t left him standing there alone.
I wished I had hugged him… sat beside him…
He once taught me, and I loved him like a father.
War doesn’t only destroy homes…
it breaks minds, shatters souls,
and leaves people alive… but lost.
May God ease your pain, doctor.
Please keep him in your prayers. 💔
English
