I remember you, Mom, always worrying about me. You used to invite me to the telephone booths at the post offices wherever I stayed to hear my voice. Thanks for your worries. That kind of attitude had passed from you, dear Mom and Dad, to my sisters Val and Emma who were older than me. I was the youngest in the family.
Emma is with you, and Val is still kicking. Do you know, dears, she lives in Canada for already 15 years. A new your great grandson was born while you had not been there, from your granddaughter Larisa.
From your daughter Emma’s daughter Marina arrived the freshest news: Marina and her husband are having a daughter, Katya is her name.
Since your last year of 1985 twenty seven years had passed by. Many things are changed: computers are now in wide use. That is a real miracle. Lately I myself started to learn them and to be accustomed to them.
On January 28th I went home from work and my heart failed, as yours, Dad, on March 31st, 1985.
As now I remember your last day. The spring began to come to overrule. The winter did not want give up. I remember how me and Val together recited then Esenin’s poem:
And the Moon is white,
Birches dressed in white are crying as I see.
Who is dead, I wonder? Is it really me?”
As with each death in the family we felt that we are dying with them.
Nice to meet you.
Your faithful son
Listen to:Alexander Dumin, “White Birch’
Watch photo gallery: “Mom, it is for you!”