I hold a happy end of
Ya in hand it is poisonous - the color photo smiling on - western openly the boy whom whether I loved slightly no more, than own children and grandsons, and in me something is thin - thinly shivers - it seems that it is hardly tense rope of my soul here - here will break, and then will begin usual and female - tears, lamentations, hysterics, reproaches. But is not present - eyes remain dry, hands do not reach for temples, and only the brain continues to remember everything, like the devil computer which considers all rushes and bends of consciousness.
We got acquainted with Marina not at the happiest moment of my life - I lost darling, the husband, the father of my children. It is necessary to tell that he survived at the same time safely - in other family, with other children. I felt terribly lonely and the arranged private life which is unfairly thrown out from a snug home once and for all. My children grew up from that age when they need mother, but did not approach that moment when they desperately begin to need the grandmother. In other words, I was left one, without support and a support. Sometimes on me found troubles, and I zapolnoch stupidly sat in kitchen at cleaning of table silver, vaguely feeling that I lead others life. My real destiny was lived somewhere absolutely in other place by absolutely other woman while I still continued not to believe in what already was more, than obviously.
Somehow time in the newspaper I came across hopelessly unfortunate letter of the reader from far Russian off road terrain. As well as I, in the recent past mother of the adult daughter and almost adult son, as well as I, in the past quite successful wife and the worker of a good institution, she felt how she promptly fails to the bog which name nobody knows, but all fatally are afraid. Yet not the old husband, the world habitual and familiar since the childhood died of a heart attack, collapsed to the last brick, and what after it was constructed, shook by the cruelty and cynicism in relation to the little unfortunate person. The adult useless daughter who did not get used to live without prosperity contacted bad people and it appeared in prison, and then was gone at all. The son - the teenager flatly refused to study, began to goof off and was already almost ready to repeat a sad way of the sister. The heroine of the letter had obviously pension age, money she, like all at that unhappy moment of our history, did not see long ago, it had no work also it and did not take anywhere. In other words, when she wrote this letter, it seemed to it that it is easier in a loop, than to continue to live horrors of its daily occurrence.
It is natural, I read all this between lines. Style of the letter was dry, and grew warm only memories of the happy past, the childhood and diseases of children. However for me each letter, each line of this message exuded with a brown ichor of human female pain. So happens when the animal cries, intolerable, lingering groan of farewell to life and knowledge that it already passes, - here to what it would be possible to compare the cable report of misfortunes of the woman who appeared besides on a hospital bed in deadly alarm not for the - for the son and daughters life. Marina`s alarm was not about money, or how to support it, to the semi-disabled person, herself and the son, she asked to respond through the newspaper the beloved useless daughter. If only know that with it at last everything is good, begged mother, and let her come back home.
the Decision came to respond to me at once - as if my hand drove from above, and words laid down on paper equal, warm and some round - they and wanted to be said and to say to enjoy much their consolation. I sent with the letter the first sum of money - very small, but sensitive for my personal welfare. At heart it was a shame to me with this otkupleniye from own misfortunes - as if I found the one who was twice unfortunate against mine and on it, pathetic, could try to look indulgently to destiny in eyes as it was worth it.Marina answered with
to me immediately, in detail otpisav what my money went to. I could not keep from an attack of mercy and sent it the new letter and the new translation. In the letter I slightly hinted at the vital circumstances and subsequently was rewarded by the whole stream of sincere keenness from Marina - it both sympathized, and helped council, and treated the word - that which needed the help and participation.also I do not remember
Ya itself how it turned out so that communication with Marina turned from a mercy duty into incomparable pleasure of suffering and compassion. And, compassion in it was exactly so much how many it is in ordinary human soul for a consolation of other human soul. The suffering reached improbable level. In Marina`s life constantly there were some new incalculable sufferings as if I read the fascinating book of great human misfortune where events exactly and on special tasty laid down in monotonously sad pattern. Together with the country did not pay it money, and she was forced to live only on underfoot to a forage, eating fruits of own kitchen garden. The son brought it one chagrin, work it was not, in completion of all there was at the same time both a happy, and sad event - the daughter - a neputevitsa appeared. She was pregnant, last months, arrived a cold padded bird and was eaten off at a maternal poor table. Marinino heart clenched at thought of what will be with the child if mother pulls in races again. The daughter let know that the guest she temporary and that old life attracts it, as before, however in this future beautiful life is not present the place small and weak. The marine suffered and gritted the teeth at night.
the Outcome came quicker, than it would like. The daughter gave rise before the term of the tiny weak boy and disappeared, having thrown a little body on a maternal threshold. The train sparkling fires took away it towards to brand new very clean destiny, having left old sick mother with the son and the grandson on full care. The marine was horrified and did not remember itself for pleasure at the same time - it had at last a being who loved and needed it unconditionally, without demanding instead of money, without putting her patience on trial time and indifference. The horror came from an eternal lack of money and fear for both children.
Should pay it tribute, this Marin. It could what I never could. It took itself in a hard fist and found work of the cleaner in one local solid institution where she was fed with a free lunch and a dinner, and what remained, allowed to take home. At the same time it it is proud wrote me that it was never humiliated before theft, and I understood it. She forced the son to throw the bad company and to continue study. It beat out all possible money from all state organizations obliged to help it with her distress. She annually lifted a kitchen garden and a subsistence economy, found to the child the wet nurse and nursed the kid with fury young full of strength and energy of mother. She was the real winner in this life, but not those whom the others respectfully called owners of modern times.
Ya healed Marina and her Mishenka again. It seemed to me that it sacred, and god sent it the real angel, the ideal sonny and the grandson at the same time. I sent it money so often as soon as could, I waited for it letters and stories about the kid as though the whole world was narrowed to a small window - a screen in which their life while washing was reflected passed as though in a dream, and whether I dreamed myself, whether I dreamed Marina, whether I dreamed it, it was unclear. I greedily read the fascinating story about Marininy motherhood and could not inhale it because history of human happiness is hardly no more many-sided, than the story about sorrows. The grief, eventually, is settled, and the pleasure has no borders, and grows as the source feeding it fills. Mishenk`s
- here. I had no its photos in infancy, but I and see these sweet chubby cheeks, clear clever eyes, gentle volosik. Mishenka grew at the healthy clever boy, very clever. He both went, and started talking extremely early not that mine and Marinin children. He early learned to read, write and consider and went to school for two years before ordinary children. Marinino heart burst with pride of the grandson, and its horizon only one message saddened - the body of her daughter killed by someone from her cohabitants was found. but even it could not rescue to Marin from her happiness. She courageously transferred this news and chilly wrote to me that she loved the daughter, but, thank God, she made at least one right choice, having thrown mother`s child. It is necessary to tell that I agreed with her point of view.Once again I want to tell
that the Lord really sent Marin the angel. The world did not see such children as Mishenka yet. The boy still went on foot under a table, and already helped Marin about the house. A bit later he was learned to prepare not bad, to do favorable purchases in shop and then business took a turn for the better. Mishenka was a family deity. Mishenka ordered economy, Mishenka operated accounts and paid for the apartment, Mishenka found to the elder brother work, Mishenka prepared and cleaned the apartment, and at the same time Mishenka was the round excellent student at school and had talent for mathematics. The marine thanked the sky and me in each letter for the fact that we - in common, certainly, helped it to grow up it a miracle - the boy. And here I modestly agreed with Marina.I cannot claim
that I did not want to arrive and see everything own eyes, especially Mishenka who was to me as native, and sent to me in each letter low regards and did additions by round diligent handwriting. However something kept me from arrival. Sometimes I already got ready for a trip and in writing informed to Marin, and she as inopportunely felt not in the best way, and I did not want to be a burden on it. And maybe, all business was in another - Marina`s happiness was so unconditional and egocentric that to me there was no place in it. My mission was in helping this family noted by god, but not to taste fruits of their deserved wellbeing. I was reached by the reflected light of their sacred relations, and to me there was enough this weak source. Near it I could burn, otherwise, I terribly was afraid to be disappointed that I sincerely loved at distance.
However so could not proceed eternally. Once, when to me it was especially lonely and sad, I ordered conversation with Marina according to the notice. It was found in several days, she was upset with something, and asked me to wait with arrival. For the first time for all our friendship I dared to reproach slightly it for unwillingness to see me. And then Marina with a sigh admitted to me that at her it is bad with heart, and she is in hospital, and heart hurts it for children and especially for Mishenka. She cried, she begged me to take care of Mishenka if she dies, and I swore it that I will adopt the boy. She literally entreated me, she praised me to skies. I rolled in a flood of tears, gratitude and own mercy, I won against the melancholy, I returned the ticket and sent Marin how many could.Several weeks from Marina were heard nothing
. I could not find any peace from concern. At last, at a door the mail carrier knocked - to me the registered mail came. The address was the same, however I did not learn handwriting. Having opened the letter, I saw the money. Everything floated before my eyes.
the Letter was written by Marina`s son as she could write nothing any more - she died. Together with her life also the myth created for such unfortunate as I came to an end. Lonely and not really which Marina allowed to feel like the real people from capital letter who without Marina have nobody would be to learn to feel pity and love the myth which there lived many women and men disinterestedly and unconditionally. I speak: the myth because in its stories there was no gram of the truth except that Mishenka really existed in this life. However already 7 years as the boy was adopted by provided German couple which flatly refused to pay Marin otkupny and did not wish to see it near the child. The daughter safely married in other city, the son worked and studied, Marina received pension and conducted huge work, corresponding and a half the country, composing the great story of the and Mishenkiny life where everything was provided and measured. Scrupulously considered amount of happiness and Marin`s misfortune in the secret magazine on each client, in the same place she conducted also financial calculations. Her son almost knew nothing about it because Marina did not want to let him into the sweet secret. She samolichno received and distributed money, providing them against a rainy day for the son. She knew that she is not eternal, and wanted that the boy did not need anything. After her death my money seemed it the drop which overflowed a bowl, and he sent them back probably being proud of the generous act.
It sent me Michael`s photograph - a picture was is made his new family. The same clever clear eyes of the happy quiet childhood, however in them there was no that angel who seemed to me in letters of the dead. It was the ordinary child, not the one whom I loved so many years.
What else to add that I endured with death of the closest to me in recent years the person. I do not know whether I have to damn it or thank on a lap for what she taught me and many others to. Thanks to it I differently looked at myself, the life, my loved ones, I learned to feel pity and sympathize blindly, I could refuse to myself the weaknesses, I became strong. But whether not too I paid dearly for this science...Needs only to tell
that Marina died next day after our telephone conversation, just when I ran on mail with the last translation and one thought in the head: if only to be in time, if only not to be late...