Tired to bury mothers of my sons
I am sitting and getting prepared to the evening when I’ll have to hug the little boy and to say something that is hard to hear even at the age of 35 ( I know it on my own experience). This is from the category of the news you can never be prepared for and we aren’t ready to hear it at any age.
The mother drank much… The boy drifted the “Pilgrim”. Then she was taken to rehab too. She used to run away from the rehab center and took along her little son… Then we found her again and took her to our place …
…Now he’s my son. He’s 12… And in fall his mother was diagnosed tuberculosis. Recently it has looked like the decease left her and she returned to the rehab.
And in the 8th of March at 1.00 a.m. she suddenly has passed away. And she was just 37. And fortunately she was even yesterday on the Sunday Worship and prayed to the One Who’s already called her.
I wish I could postpone this unpleasant but alas not so rear mission…, but I have no other exit. Today my son will have to become grown up immediately. Everything around him will change very much. What makes me still glad is that since today his understanding of the “Gospel” is gonna be much more meaningful…
I am leaving for now… I need to get up courage before this horrible talk… and to try to find the husband of the dead and “ my son’s father”… and it is not so easy: the guy is in the slavery of Vodka, and I doubt, that we’ll manage to invite him to the funeral… And should I…?