Some Secrets are Meant to be Shared

On the back of the book cover for A Rose for Sergei it states:  “After more than forty years, K. Kidd shares this never-before-told story about Sergei Kourdakov.”  Some may find that statement hard to believe, but it literally means I never told anyone what it was really like to have known Sergei personally—to hear his story first hand, to laugh with him, to dance in his arms.  I never told anyone that I caught a glimpse of the pain from his past and his dreams of a new future in America.  I never told anyone, family or friends, how horrible it was to stand heartbroken in a Washington DC cemetery and say goodbye to Sergei.  He was only twenty-one.

I already know your next question.  Why did I keep it all to myself?  I think you have to understand that when Sergei and I met there was a little something called the “Cold War” going on at the time.  We dated during the era of the superpower struggle between the USA and the USSR.  People in both countries were frightened.  If I mentioned that I had met a Russian defector, some people walked away from me, especially after I said Sergei died from a tragic accident.  Then there were those who didn’t believe me.  I presume the whole story seemed too farfetched for them.  Thus, I learned it was best to keep our story to myself.  I didn’t talk about Sergei anymore.  I kept everything a secret.

Dreams are meant for sharing.  Secrets are meant for keeping.  But reality plays a trick on us sometimes.  The truth is that some dreams are meant for keeping, they are never realized.  And some secrets are meant to be shared.  When Sergei’s life story was being questioned I felt I needed to speak out for him, even after forty years.