Boris Radojicic Obituary -
After retiring in 2005, Boris dedicated himself to his garden, his apiary (beekeeping became his great passion), and his three grandchildren: Lazar, Ana, and Mila. He taught them to fish in the canal near his summer cottage, to make slatko (fruit preserves), and to respect the land.
He was a voracious reader until eyesight failed him, devouring everything from Ivo Andrić to crime novels. His favorite joke—which he told so often it became family lore—was: “Why don’t engineers play hide and seek? Because good luck hiding when someone always points out the flaws in your hiding spot.”
The Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s presented the greatest challenge of Boris’s life. Living in Novi Sad, which endured devastating NATO bombings in 1999, Boris watched as the bridges he had helped build were destroyed. He lost his brother, Aleksandar, in the conflict. boris radojicic obituary
Yet, in the face of horror, Boris exhibited a humanitarian courage that defined his legacy. He helped organize a secret network of neighbors to distribute food and medicine to elderly Serbs, Croats, Bosniaks, and Hungarians alike, sheltering two displaced families in his own basement for three months. He never spoke of this publicly, and it is only in this obituary that his family has chosen to reveal it. “Blood is red for all people,” he once told his son. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
In 1972, Boris met the love of his life, Milena Petrović, at a traditional kolo dance in the city square. Their courtship was slow and deliberate, much like Boris himself. They married in 1974 in a simple ceremony at the Church of the Great Martyr George. After retiring in 2005, Boris dedicated himself to
Their union produced two children, Dragan (born 1976) and Natalija (born 1981). As a father, Boris was strict but never cold. He taught his son how to fix a carburetor and his daughter how to lay a brick wall, believing that “no skill is wasted on any person.” Every Sunday, regardless of the weather, the family gathered for lunch at his mother’s table—a tradition that continued for fifty years.
Milena’s health began to decline in the early 2000s due to multiple sclerosis. Without hesitation, Boris reduced his hours at the engineering firm to become her primary caregiver. For nearly two decades, he woke early to make her breakfast, read to her from Serbian poetry books, and push her wheelchair through the park. He refused to place her in a home. “She danced with me when I had two left feet,” he would say. “Now I walk with her.” His favorite joke—which he told so often it
Milena predeceased him in 2019. Those who knew Boris say he never truly recovered; a light had gone out, though he continued to shine for his children and grandchildren.
