Date of birth: November 18, 1986

Place of birth: Moscow

    Writing about my son… Briefly, few sentences. Before I would have said that’s impossible. Son, love, happiness – all merge into one. Is it possible to place boundaries on happiness? Apparently, it is. Life is not straightforward. After motherly love, which in my case was definitely “blind”, rude awakening came unexpectedly and abruptly…

    Granite plate and a set of dates: the happiest day, November 18th and the very last, October 26th, these are the boundaries of happiness.
    When talking about a child, people describe first smile, first word, first step, and first book. But with us, Yaroslav, everything is unusual! Description starts from the end…Most precious are the last words. Being “imprisoned” in the theater, Yaroslav remembered the loved ones. His concerns were not about himself, but of those “outside”, and not a word about his discomfort, stuffy air, thirst, and simply fear. “Mama, are you afraid?” – Yes, son, I am very afraid to live without you…I cannot live without you. We had always been together. Yaroslav always found a word of support to convince, to pacify, and to provide reassurance. Being not even 16, he could, like adult, simply hold my hand when the words were needless. And here again, your last move, my son, was more precious than your first step in childhood. You simply hugged your sister, who was older, but weaker, took my hand and … with all your courage protected us from everything scary and ugly. And all your doubts that you were not like others, not sure of yourself and weak dissipated.
    Yaroslav loved his city, his area, and his street. I am not going to list all of his favorite places, because they are too numerous, as numerous are his favorite theaters and exhibitions. We used to love driving around the city in the evening. It was a good time to share problems and concerns. Often times I presented my reasoning and arguments before my son like before a judge. This was a method of his teenage and my “middle age” crisis management. “Evening city is the best psychologist”, said my son. Barely being 16, Yaroslav was adult - completely grown up. He took adult approach to dealing with both his and my problems. He gave serious and thoughtful consideration even to minor occurrences. While some wouldn’t mind telling lies or just not paying attention, Yaroslav always took care not to hurt others. He was easily and deeply touched by words as well as by the tone of voice. A word said in a loud voice could cause him pain. He just couldn’t take anything lightly. Happiness and joy meant sunshine, and bad news – darkness and gloom. Yes, my only son, you weren’t like others. But you were better than me, better than others, although, it was difficult for you to live with such a sensitive soul. His ability to distinguish good and evil was surprising to friends and relatives. At times, it was difficult to explain all feeling and thoughts buried inside. Things change with age, if one gets to live to adulthood.
 

    More about him.. . What did he accomplish… Yaroslav graduated from the school of music. “Like many others” , you may say. No! He was too shy to play for others. Even at school, he didn’t dare to play if asked. I scolded him for that, and now I am asking for forgiveness. But he needed the music! How well he played for his girlfriend Ksusha… It was their secret conversation without words. And it was interrupted …on October, 26th. The scores of Mozart and Rahmaninov remained behind. Now I understand his reason for hours of practice. To play just once, but not for everyone, but for a special person. He was an avid reader and a good storyteller. He impersonated the characters like an actor.

I often asked him to read out loud.

    Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” was our last book together. Engrossed in reading, he didn’t stop reading for 3 hours straight. Now this book is sitting on his desk. I am afraid to pick it up and open it. Afraid, because it will be “silent”. Like silent are his CDs and cassettes that he placed on the shelves with care. He was interested not only in classical music. All his friends knew that Yaroslav knows not only the title of the last hit, or the name of the band, but the year of its creation and the singer’s place of birth. He didn’t like to talk about his likes or dislikes, and never blindly followed what’s in fashion. I will not disclose his secrets. Unexpectedly, we have discovered …..:Kukin, Gorodnizky, Mitayev. Yaroslav loved Mitayev’s song “ Fall at the park”, a song about war, about young fellow. Listen to it. Now I think that his choice was not accidental.
    Tennis lessons brought us a lot of joy despite of complexity of the lessons. He took every hobby seriously. He was a true fan of our tennis players. He dreamt of them winning the “Devis” prize. And they won… And I told him about it … at the cemetery. He didn’t get to live…And everyone rejoiced at their victory, but not my son. In despair, I wanted to write to Kafelnikov and Safin to let them know about 15-year old boy, Yeroslav Fadeev, who pasted the posters of his favorite tennis stars all over his room.
    I write this letter to let people know about one of many murdered innocent children whose fate was decided on October 26th, 2002.
    It is a great happiness to have an adult son. It is a devastation to talk only to his numerous pictures which he left behind for such a short life…

Irina Fadeeva - Mother
 

“Life is not a rose garden”
 

Only now does this saying make sense to me.
 

    Was – that ‘s a horrible word. He was… Everything ended on October 26th. On October, 23rd, all of us were still together: my sister Irina, my nephew and godson Yaroslav, daughter Anastasia and I.
 

    I though that we had wonderful kids, brother and sister, who will go through life alongside one another. Yaroslav was a peacemaker of the family. Anastasia knew that her brother would always be on her side to protect and find a solution from any situation. There were many problems and difficulties, just like in any family. Every morning I was getting up happy to see the sky and the trees… Now I don’t see anything anymore. I have remained in October. Going to the theater and getting into war. How to cross this gap?
 

    Because I am a teacher, many people turned to me for advice and help. Sometimes we took each others hands and formed a circle, Yaroslav, Anastasia, Ira and I , and said: “Everything will be alright”.
 

    But now the circle is broken, how do I go on? I live, I breathe, I walk, but I don’t exist…Why am I still here?
 

Vika, Yaroslav’s aunt.