I came home and my father's friends called me. They said that someone called them from the hospital and asked me, a relative of my father, to call them.
I called the hospital to find out how my father was. I was told that he died in intensive care at one o’clock in the afternoon. I was completely shocked by the sudden news… and the words “died in intensive care” rang in my head for many weeks, if not months. For some reason, I thought that my father simply could not die, at least not now. Life brought me back to reality.
I called my mother, who went to the village a few hours earlier. With difficulty and with tears, I told her the news. She went back.
I do not know how much time passed while I was collecting information about what needs to be done to bury my father, but when my mother entered the apartment, I had the feeling that only a few minutes had passed.
We went to the trolleybus stop to go to my father’s apartment and take the documents. The sun has already set.
Having passed the lake, mom mentioned in a conversation that when she came to dad on the first day, he was able to tell her that he had seen his mom and dad, but then he returned. I exclaimed under my breath why she did not say this earlier! Then I would certainly feel the seriousness and importance of the situation, and would come to him! …Months later mother also told me how dad mentioned to her that he had a mild stroke before. Had I known that, the knowledge would have probably forced me go to visit my father as well.
The bus did not arrive, and I did not feel well. I told my mother about my desire to go to the apartment the next day early in the morning. We went home through Cherkizovsky park so as to collect our thoughts.
I found a funeral home and it turned out that it was necessary to have the death certificates of my grandparents and uncle in order to bury dad in the grave with his parents. In father’s apartment, we could only find grandmother’s death certificate. Unfortunately, dad did not listen to my mother and did not collect the necessary documents during his lifetime.
We had to go to the hospital. I knew that it would not be easy. The summer heat didn't help either. Throughout the ride in the subway, I tried to calm my thoughts in order to remove tension in the body.
When we were on the hospital’s territory, I thought that the Higher Selves of the first category are able to resurrect the dead if three days have not passed since the death of the physical body of a person, and the person himself wants to return – then, in some cases, the Higher Self can return the soul back to the physical body. But thoughts remained thoughts…
At the ward where yesterday lay my living father, the doctors gave us papers to sign, and we met the man who was calling me. They returned father’s belongings, but there was no passport. We were sent to intensive care where a man from India opened the door.
He could speak Russian, but I could not help but wonder if people from Russia could not occupy such an important profession? However, perhaps this was a very good specialist in his field who was unparalleled in all of Russia. I do not know. I want to note what should already be obvious – I am not a racist, and did not experience any serious bias towards people of a different skin color even before Thiaoouba and my knowledge about reincarnation. But this moment made me think even more about the state of Russia, and I decided to include it in the book. There is also a chance that that person was born in Russia and just speaks with an accent, just as there can be many other explanations.
While we were waiting for the passport to arrive, I felt that I was not very well and wanted to go outside as soon as possible.
The next day, father’s friend took us to the cemetery, where grandfather and grandmother were buried. We drove on the Moscow Ring Road and passed by my grandmother’s house, where I went to visit with my mother for school holidays a long time ago. Sometimes father also would come with us.
In the end, because of fact that the registry office was closed on Sunday and Monday, we could not collect the necessary documents, and we had to bury my father a few meters from his parents.
Mother had to pay about 60 000 rubles for the simplest funeral. Plus, we had to pay the paramedics to drag the coffin with my father’s body several meters to the car. They asked for double value, since dad was larger than other people… This money…
Father’s friend and his wife could not go to the funeral. It was just me, mom, and father’s relative.
I could not hold back my tears, although I understood why Thao told Michel that one should not be selfish when someone dies. My father suffered a lot in his life, and now he had a chance to live a new one, which, I hope, will be easier than the previous life. One needs to be able to put oneself in the place of other people and look at the situation from their point of view.
When I went to get the death certificate for my father’s brother, I was not at all surprised by the fact that the registry office at 9th Parkovaya Street was located directly opposite the place where my father drove to many years ago to pick me up after the dentist. Father sometimes would say that he let me down at different points in his life. In that moment I had a feeling that I let him down now. I felt pain from the fact that he remembered me after the stroke, but I could not come to him in the hospital on time…
But, something ends, something begins. After my mom and I went to the hospital, my health became better, although it was not completely normal yet. Mom began to ask me to go with her to the village, seeing that I was, after all, able to get to the cemetery beyond the Moscow Ring Road. I kept refusing.
The village reminded me of how in my childhood we would drive there with my father each year. With his death, I am unlikely to ever see the familiar places we traveled by so often.
I hadn’t quarreled and argued with my mother for so long, and now that we were the only two left, I tried to protect her as I could. I did not want to lose her as well, and to be completely alone… Once, when I was studying at school, I only wished, out of fear to talk to people, so that no one would call me and talk to me… Wishes come true.
In late August, I again refused to go to the village that seemed so far away to me, and my mother left alone. After a while I called her, but no one answered. In the evening too. Knowing the nature of my mother, I realized that most likely she was just upset with me and did not want to talk. But then the question arose what if, after all, something did happen? I thought that I needed to go to the village, but I could not make up my mind to do it.
I then went to Sokolniki for a health-replenishment walk and heard in the news about the death of Kobzon. This news reminded me of my knowledge about life and about reincarnation. I turned around, bought some food for my mother, and booked a bus ticket at home, so I could go to the village the next day. Whatever happens, happens.
Just in case, I asked my old acquaintances to check on my mother, and they told me that she was in the garden. I rode calm.
All the way I tried to be positive about everything that was happening around. It helped me relax.
At the dacha, I cut down thickets of blackthorn and helped my mother with various other problems, which have accumulated quite a lot.
The village itself had changed a lot over the many years that I could not visit it.
Having brought my mother spring and well water, I was going to leave the next day. Nothing bothered me anymore when I walked across a tree-overgrown field that had not been sown for many years. I could not help but recall the dream that I had many months ago. In that dream, I was finally able to come to the village, and old acquaintances congratulated me on this. In reality, I have not met any old friends, but I did actually reach the village.
After some time, I came to the village again to help my mom take the crop away. Before, my father would do this on his car, which he sold a couple of years ago but could ride on it by proxy.