They left a note on his door:

“If you don’t evacuate your home in 24 hours we will kill one of your family members.”

Impossible, they had been living in this home. All of them, Ghazi, his wife, five grown sons, their spouses and children, all together. He was a doctor all five sons were dentists, Hassan was even the Dean of a local Dental School. They were well known and respected by all. Their lives were here, in Iraq, in Baghdad, on this street, in THIS home. No, he was not going to take this threat seriously.

24 hours later his nephew (my cousin) was left on the door step, dead. They grabbed everything they could, piled into a car, and are now refugees.

He was driving home, saw a family walking by. A man, his pregnant wife, their young son. He thought, the streets in Iraq aren’t safe for a family to walk around like this. He decided to pick them up, take them home. They gratefully joined him. Exchanged greetings, happy to find a kind heart amongst the chaos. Suddenly, they were surrounded. Unidentifiable men forced them out of the car.

They made the boy watch as his father was killed, watch as his mothers womb was split. My cousin pleaded with them, begged them to please just spare the young boys life. “Just let me take him home, I won’t tell anyone who you are, please.” No, that was too much compassion for them, they made my cousin watch the young boy die. Somehow by the grace of Allah the police came. My cousin was saved, well physically, his body was saved, mentally, he’s gone. He can’t stand Iraq anymore, he fled with his family, they are now refugees.

My family, refugees.

Seriously?

Unbelievable.

I tell their stories because they can’t. I have the duty…I have the privilege to change their story.

This fourth of July, i will be praying that one day they can celebrate the freedoms I have so thoughtlessly enjoyed for the past 21 years.