Mum

By Dmitry Kann 2 min read This post in Russian, in Dutch 0802

It’s happened. That what everyone was so scared to bring up but nonetheless inevitable. You. Are. Gone.

There was nearly no joy left in your life in the last year and a half. Not after you lost your beloved husband and, unexpectedly, your eldest son.

You have never been outside since. Not that you wanted it anyway. You couldn’t sleep, you lost weight, and you were suffering from pain in the leg you broke almost two years ago.

You kept reiterating you’re tired of that life and wouldn’t want to go on; yet, in your inconsistent ways you’d always refuse to go to the hospital claiming you wouldn’t survive that.

February 21, 1934 — January 3, 2022
February 21, 1934January 3, 2022

We all tried to be helpful but that made a little difference. It’s hard to help someone when she’s alone in this world and all her loved ones are either far away or gone.

The only thing that seemingly made you truly happy was our little monkey daughter, whose biggest worry in this life is an imposed restriction on watching TV or eating sweets. We video-called a lot and, even though you couldn’t hear us well, we saw it in your eyes: you were glad for your youngest son who’d finally found a proper family. I even tend to think you wouldn’t leave without making sure that was the case.

I know very few people capable of loving their kids as much as you did. You’ve always been a role model of self-sacrifice and unconditional love for the three of us — and now two.

And when it comes to stubbornness, you were a damn good match for our dad. May it be the case you met him there somewhere, and you’re grumbling at him he’s screwing up again.

We’re missing that so much now. Rest in peace, our beloved mum.

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