Turning tragedy into opportunity to help
War was ripping Bosnia and Herzegovina apart in the early 1990s, so the Cavarkapa family came to the United States, the country they thought was best for a new start.
And it was.
The father, Branko Cavarkapa, entered American academia as a Fulbright scholar. He eventually came to Eastern Connecticut State University, where he is now a professor of management. The mother, Alexsandra Cavarkapa, earned her certification as an X-ray technician, the job she’d held in their home country.
Their two sons settled into American childhood.
Andrej, who was 4 when his family immigrated, worked the hardest to be an American. He left behind his family’s original language (Serbo-Croatian), took up painting and, once he was out of school, began running with a vengeance.
He retained his boyish sweetness, and the stories of his kindness are legion. The family was once traveling east from Branko’s appointment at the University of Oklahoma in the city of Norman. Branko said they didn’t have two coins to rub together, but on their three-day trek, they found someone sitting at a gas station — not begging, really, but looking like he could use some help.
Andrej, then 5, asked his dad to give the man money. Branko did so, and when he returned to the car, Andrej asked him how much he’d given, and was displeased with the amount. Branko told him he didn’t have more to give. Andrej wouldn’t let it go. Someone needed help. The family needed to help.
A friend from middle school has a story about a visit to San Diego. During a break in a pickup basketball game, the friend saw Andrej sitting on a bench, talking to a man who was homeless, sharing his sandwich.
A few years later, back in Connecticut, Andrej came home to find a young boy crying in the parking lot behind his apartment building. The boy’s bike had been stolen. Andrej told him to dry his tears. He had two bikes inside. He gave the boy one of them.
That sweetness was coupled with a keen mind. Andrej finished two majors in college, a master’s in education, and earned a certificate to teach physics. He talked about getting a Ph.D. He took up painting and encouraged his mother to do the same. He was a born teacher, and his students at RHAM in Hebron loved him.
And then one night in January 2017, Andrej, then 30, was running near his West Hartford apartment, and he was struck by a car. No charges were filed. Witnesses said the driver had the light.
From his MRI, his mother knew her son would not recover. Andrej spent six anguished days in the ICU, while the waiting room filled with students, colleagues, and friends.
The students stammered out their appreciation, waited, and pressed notes into Andrej’s parents hands. A student named Ariel wrote that she appreciated that Mr. C never confused her with his answers in class. Instead, he taught a love of physics to kids who said they’d had zero interest before his class.
And when he died, the world shifted a little. He was an organ donor, of course. People are alive right now because of his heart, his kidneys and his liver. Others who wanted to do something — anything — donated money to a fund, and the amount grew into an endowed scholarship for students who want to study science at Eastern.
But that wasn’t enough. Friends decided to host a fundraiser fun run. The Cavarkapas expected 25 people. The heavens opened up that day, and almost 200 runners and walkers slogged through the course.
The second annual run is Sept. 28, and both Cavarkapas choke up when they talk about it. It is not supposed to be this way, parents outliving their children. There is something unnatural about that. But as Branko says, tragedy is everywhere. You must move on, and do what you can to turn tragedy into an opportunity to help others.
Andrej would want that.