Clinging.

Have you ever missed someone so much that it hurt? Or loved them so much that when they're gone you're not completely whole? Once they're not right next to you anymore, your mind is flooded with both fond memories of all the things you did together, and deep regrets, like how you should have listened more closely when they were telling you about their day at school, or payed more attention to the way they smiled, because every minute that they're gone part of your remembrance of them fades.

I have.

Many of the Russian Jews left Russia for America, being part of a program for refugees called The International Organization for Migration. They did this in two major waves, 30% before 1990, 70% after. (Kliger) This meant that many were many. But it was not as easy as it sounds. "People do not leave Russia as simple migrants. Rather, they must show that they feel obliged to leave, that they are in fact refugees" (Salgado 4). It was a chance to leave the former Soviet Union, but it would take them a very long time to get their visas from Russia, and not all of them would get their visas at the same time, which became a serious problem for families. Such was the case for the family in this picture, in Moscow, Russia, 1994.

As I was reading about it, the last sentence in the pamphlet in the back of the book stuck out to me.

"They do not know when they will next see each other" (Salgado 4).

Four people. On the left, a man with a mixture of deep and abiding sadness, sorrow, longing, and maybe just a little bit of anger in his expression. Another man, slightly tugging at the sad man's jacket, as if he's guiding him somewhere. His face, mostly without emotion. But maybe a hint of somberness. The next two men are embracing. The one with his back to the camera is being clung to by the other, who has his face buried his shoulder, probably overcome to the point of tears. Although the other man's face cannot be seen, I suspect he feels similarly.

The two men are the ones who stuck out to me. The first word I thought of when I saw their embrace was, "cling." I looked up synonyms for this word, and three of my very favorites are "cherish," "emotion," and "endure." The clinging says so much more than can be observed. You can almost feel yourself the emotion surrounding them. You can see their depth of love for each other, and that they cherish one another. You can see the pain that will ensue as they endure the inevitable separation that will last for who knows how long. They will miss each other so much it will hurt, and feel like a part of them is missing while the other is gone. They are family.

We've all experienced this. Maybe not to the extreme that they ever had to, but the pain might be as deep. However, one thing that I can infer from observing and reading about this photograph, is that this hug is not just a symbol of their deep pain. To me, it also exhibits their faith in each other. For the one leaving, it is an expression of thanks and a wish of good luck. For the one being left, it's an expression of well-wishes and absolute pride that the one leaving has finally made it. It is also a signal of hope that one day they'll be reunited again.

They say that hardships help us grow closer, and that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It is my hope that this was the case for these two people.

Works Cited:
Salgado, Sebastiao. Migrations: Humanity in Transition. 1994. Photograph. New York: Aperchure Foundation, Inc., 2000. 48.

Salgado, Sebastiao. Migrations: Humanity in Transition. Pamphlet. New York: Aperture Foundation, Inc., 2000. 4. Print.

http://www.thesaurus.com

Kliger, Sam, Director, Russian Affairs, AJC. Russian-Jewish Immigrants in the U.S: Social Portrait, Challenges, and AJC Involvement. Web. 17 September 2015. http://www.ajcrussian.org/site/apps/nlnet/content2.aspx?c=chLMK3PKLsF&b=7718799&ct=11713359