A small plot of land: Memories of a 12-year-old son
Images by Ani Gevorgyan
Editor’s note: This interview is the third in a series conducted by Shushan Papazyan and Ani Gevorgyan documenting the stories of children killed by Azerbaijani aggression in Artsakh. The series will be featured in the Armenian Weekly throughout the coming weeks.
***
From 2016-2023, various phases of the Artsakh conflict—from the Four-Day War to the mass displacement—claimed the lives of many civilians, including children.
The exact number of children killed is difficult to determine due to conflicting reports. According to a report compiled by the Tatoyan Foundation, 21 civilians, including six children, were killed as a result of Azerbaijan’s attack on Artsakh on Sept. 19, 2023.
Documenting the stories of children killed by Azerbaijani aggression in Artsakh reminds us that behind every statistic is a human life—with dreams, hopes and visions of a future cut short by violence.
Gayane Grigoryan shared her heartbreaking story in an interview conducted by the author.
Gayane Grigoryan describes in detail what Vagharshak’s small plot of land was like. It seems as though she does not want to leave out a single detail. This thread of memory connects Gayane and her eldest son.
“At my husband’s paternal home in Herher village, we had a small plot of land. Vagharshak had his own section. He planted trees and flowers. He took care of them with great love.
None of us had the right to touch his trees. After his death, we started taking care of them. The trees began to bear fruit.
He had a peach tree. At first, we couldn’t harvest the fruit. Then gradually, we learned,” she says.
The Grigoryan family lived in Nerqin Chartar (Zoravan) village in the Martuni region of Artsakh. Gayane’s husband, Tatul, was in military service. The three children—Vagharshak, Gor and Gevorg—attended the local school, where Gayane worked as a teacher. Yet life’s normal course was disrupted during the Four-Day War of 2016.
On the morning of April 2, amid missile and artillery shelling by Azerbaijan in the direction of the Nerqin Chartar military base, 12-year-old Vagharshak was killed on his way to school, while his 11-year-old brother Gevorg was seriously injured.
“Vagharshak was very mature for his age. He always told us he would establish businesses and develop the village. He looked completely different from his peers; he was very tall. He was in seventh grade when the incident occurred. He always told me that when he grew up, he would be very famous. I never imagined that he would become famous this way,” says Gayane.
Before the Four-Day War, the military quarters had not been under direct enemy attack. On April 2, the war started, but life continued: people went to work, and children went to school. Gayane called Martuni to ask about the situation. They told her there was no need to worry.
“In any case, we didn’t let the children stay alone in the yard for long, or go to school alone—and I never thought about leaving our house,” she explains.
Gayane recalls hearing gunfire, but the school and houses were not targeted. She thought the danger was minimal.
“It was early morning, about 8:30 a.m. I was on my way to school with the children. They had gone ahead of me and already reached the yard. I heard a loud whooshing sound. For a moment, everything disappeared in smoke. I didn’t understand what happened. I got scared and ran toward my children,” she says.
Gayane found the children in the smoke. Gor, Gevorg and their friend Vardan were bleeding on the ground. “Gor somehow brought Vagharshak to me. I embraced him; he was still alive. I was thinking about how to save my boy. I was screaming for them to bring a car.”
A car arrived, and Gayane, embracing Vagharshak, got in. Vardan’s parents took her other sons to the hospital.
“We took Vagharshak to the military hospital to save him. The driver was a soldier, so he headed there. My other sons, with their friend Vardan and his parents, were at the regional hospital. Vagharshak, in my arms, kept looking at me. When we handed him over to the doctors, they said we were late. A fragment had hit an artery. The child had died on the way. I didn’t want to believe it. I was disconnected. They were telling me that Gevorg was not well—to leave and go.”
Vagharshak’s body was transported to Stepanakert for forensic examination. The family waited and prepared for the funeral. “On April 4, we buried Vagharshak. Many people gathered. Even at that time, they targeted us, shooting in the direction of the cemetery.”
Her other son, Gevorg, suffered a serious leg injury. He was urgently transported to Arevik children’s hospital in Stepanakert. Gor was unscathed and taken home by relatives.
Gayane says she didn’t know where to be—at Vagharshak’s funeral or with her other son, as Gevorg kept calling for her. In the hospital, Gevorg received letters from Armenia encouraging him to get well soon. Gayane soon went to Gevorg to care for him. His condition was serious—he couldn’t walk. His recovery lasted about a month.
“It was as if we were teaching him to walk from scratch. We hadn’t told him that his brother had died. We deceived him, saying his leg was broken and that he was at Martuni hospital. He constantly asked about both Vardan and Vagharshak. Vardan also had a difficult recovery. I didn’t want to tell my son. A month later, he figured it out himself.”
After the incident, Gayane couldn’t go to school for a long time. She returned for the graduation bell, and then for the opening ceremony of a monument for her son. “Wherever Vagharshak went, he planted a tree. There were trees he planted in the schoolyard, too. After his death, the students started taking care of them,” she shares.
Vagharshak’s grave is in Herher village. Gayane regularly visited the tomb and spent the rest of her time at the hospital caring for Gevorg. “Vagharshak was very small.
Once, he had eaten a peach, kept the pit and planted it in his grandma’s yard in Herher. After his death, the peach tree bloomed and bore fruit. We never ate those peaches. I couldn’t.”
After her son’s loss, Gayane could not return home. She and her husband decide to move to Shushi with their two sons to rebuild their lives.
“My boys always remember our former house. In a short time, we adapted to Shushi. We had just started to recover when the 44-day war began [in 2020]. I saw how frightened my boys were. We were worried about their health. We came to Armenia for a short time. On November 19, we returned again—this time to Stepanakert,” Gayane says.
Gayane says if they hadn’t returned to Artsakh, she would have felt she had betrayed Vagharshak. The last time she visited her son’s grave was on September 17, 2023, two days before the war. “We went without flowers. We were under blockade; it wasn’t possible to get them. I always went to Herher to take care of my son’s grave. When I was there for the last time, I didn’t think I would ever go again.”
The memory of her son in a small school bag
In their current apartment in Armenia, Vagharshak’s school bag sits before Gayane. She knows his handwriting by heart, because she taught Armenian history and gave him low grades so he wouldn’t boast that his mother favored him over other students. She often opens these notebooks and his diary, where Gayane had marked in red a grade of 2 (out of 5). “I sat with him for lessons. He didn’t want to do them. Sometimes, he asked about topics to go tell his friends. I would get angry and wouldn’t tell him.”
This school bag has seen several displacements. The last time the family was displaced from Artsakh, Gayane only brought this bag. Her son’s other belongings, including his clothes and toys, remained in Shushi.
In 2023, when the war renewed, Gayane did not want to leave Stepanakert. The family delayed leaving. They reached Armenia by September 27.
“We rented this apartment for Gevorg. He is a student here. My husband, Gor and I came here, trying to rebuild life, though now we have little to hold on to. At least in Artsakh, we had memories; we could go visit the grave. Here, we visit Yerablur. I have lost students and family friends. I try to take my longing there,” she says.
Gevorg is now on the path to becoming a doctor. His mother says he made that decision after learning there was no doctor available at the hospital to save Vagharshak.
The last time the family was together was in 2015 on Vagharshak’s birthday. Now, every year on January 19 and April 2, the family gathers at Yerablur. This year, Vagharshak would have turned 21.
“Very cruel things happened to us. Sometimes, I don’t feel how time passes, because this wound never heals. People often tell me, at least you know where your boy is. I constantly think about how great all our grief is—and how incomparable,” she reflects.
Since her son’s loss, Gayane waits every day for some news. The family has filed a complaint with the European Court of Human Rights against Azerbaijan over the missile attack on the school and her son’s death.
“I think if justice exists, then we will receive some news,” she says.
This piece is translated from the original Armenian, which was published on MediaLab.am.
Shushan Papazyan
Latest posts by Shushan Papazyan (see all)
- Lost before the war: The tragic death of 11-year-old Eduard Aleksanyan - June 23, 2025
- A mother’s daily path to the cemetery - June 23, 2025
- A small plot of land: Memories of a 12-year-old son - June 19, 2025
