Amateur's poem: If you see my mother, tell her not to cry

As young as he was, he was 17 years old when he joined the National Liberation Army, and as in the legends and heroic Albanian stories, in the last breath of his life, he had left a wish to his friends “if you see my mother, tell him never to tears to me, because I'm going the way I loved”

And Mother Mine has kept her dying wish, lovingly reminding her of the 17 years of her son's life together.

She doesn't forget to mark Hysni's 34th birthday and her six-year-old nephew, Heroild, cut the cake, congratulating it as if his son were there.

The adult Hysniu in the remote mountain village of Zhegoci, in a stone-built house in which still lives a part of the Xhemajli family, because except for memories of their lives, that house was also home to the Kosovo Liberation Army.

In the mountain - surrounded house, Mrs. Miner has fresh memories of his time with his son Hysun, who says that he had a difficult childhood, as did other children, since each day he had to walk more than six miles [8 km] to school, and many young people were forced to take on more physical work to ensure his family's existence because the conqueror had violently fired his father, who worked in the mine.

tells Kosovo Press that the arrival of the March holidays reminds her of specific dates -- one of them is March 8th -- that Hysniu had congratulated her for the last time, before going to the war from which she returned on the flag.

It's Hysini's birthday, when it comes to March 8, it reminds me of my feelings, reminds me it's his birthday and for the last time he wished me March 8th”, she says.

Seeing the place where Hyshua raised her, she also remembers the last conversations she had with her and the message she had left.

He was out of the house, here in this grown house, saying don't come back knowing I'm going. I told him where he was going, son, that the war was over, he said no, not that we're done, we've freed our lands... Once again, I'm going to work, and if I'm imprisoned, never tear from my face, never tear from my face, never cry for me, never cry for me, never tears for Christ”, she relates as she explains that all the time they were inseparable with his brother, Fauz.

She also recalls the moment she received news of the boy's fall, which a team of KFOR soldiers had sent to the news.

I saw KFOR's chair coming into the yard, as if I were following my heart that something has come. And there's a translator coming, she told me good afternoon friend, is Ramiz Xhemajli's house? He said no one else is here? My husband and son are not here. He said is there anyone else? ) My brother-in-law's son came out. He said maybe I could get in. When the brother-in-law came out, they got into the car and went to the car, says Minia, as he said he knew his son was gone, even though the tèsia was trying to keep the brother-in-law's son, who KFOR soldiers told him he was dead.

When my brother-in-law came out, I saw a lot of stress, I told him what was wrong with him, so we're just saying that if you know, he's hurt. We didn't kill them. The big boy came, said what was done, said Hysnia was murdered, and I just said, "Well, that's what I found, and I'm back here sitting in front of the house." Vlora gave me a glass of water, said Mother, I said no to your mother, and I'm proud of”, says Minery remembering the most painful moment of her life.

The next day, they brought the boy on a flag and sent him to the tomb of the martyrs in Gnjilan to stay with other martyrs forever.

In times of pain and pride, she had sought to meet his companions, who had stayed close to him at the last moments of her life. They tell him that during the time from Tetovo to Kosovo, Hysniu was consciously aware as they had just arrived at Prizren hospital before being sent to the operating room where he had lived, he had left a wish for his mother.

And my friends who have been here, I have them. Did they leave you something? That's the last words he's ever said and he's been hospitalised, and that's where he's passed”, she says.

She also feels good when they come to visit Hysni's friends, who feel part of her son, and separately the soldiers with whom her son spent the last moments of his life.

As my mother spoke, Ramazi's father stayed in the Oda where a photograph of Hysni and the Kosovo Liberation Army was hanging on her wall. He didn't want to speak in front of the Kosovo camera, even though he wouldn't tell us, in his eyes the thought of having enough memories and love for his son was enough.