– I am tired, my children, I will sleep a little, – he said, asking for a bed for him. He came and immediately fell asleep. I didn’t close my eyes all night, I couldn’t find a place.
In the morning after tea, my father said to me:
– Son, next week you will sit next to Mom’s bed. She is now being watched by Shafoat.
Only now I realized that the situation is very difficult.
I write about those days and my heart breaks out of my chest. Life has severely punished us. I don’t know what sins. Next to me are my brothers, a sister, one smaller than the other, in the army, crippled Abduvahid, my mother is in the hospital. Black days fell on my father’s old age. There seemed to be no sorrow in the world that did not fall on our family.
In the morning I went on the way. The first person I saw in the hospital was sister Shafoat. During that time, she became old, sad. I called her. Looking around confusedly, she finally found me, looked at me and did not recognize. A moment of her sad look slipped on my face:
– Rashid, my dear, is it you? She finally cried out and ran to me. She cried for a long time, hiding her face on my chest. Then she took herself into her hands:
– My mom is bad, so bad. I just don’t know what to do, – she said, the tears flowed on her cheeks.
We entered the chamber together. My sister wiped her tears quickly. My heart was beating, it seemed, now, something terrible, irreparable was about to happen. My mother’s eyes were tied to the door. I quickly approached her. Her pale face turned to my side. For a moment she looked at me:
– Oh my dear, you have come! How could I not recognize you, – she said, trying to get up from bed. I fell on my knees in front of her. She grabbed my head, began greedy kissing my face, my eyes.
– I was like that, son. How are you there without me? The kids, probably, were completely tormented? – she asked with a chilling voice. I calmed her. Shafoat was sitting on the side with her head down, her shoulders trembled…
My mother cuddled another. In those few days she has completely changed. Her face was slightly different from the color of her clothes. The voice seemed to come from somewhere deep. She asked about Vahid. Then she closed her eyes and whispered rather than spoke:
– He dreams of me every day. He calls me for help. I hear his voice, but I cannot find him. If only my son was healthy. Was there no letter from him? – she opened her eyes and looked closely at me.
– The letter has arrived. It was brought yesterday. He sends greetings to everyone. Soon, he said, he will come, – I hurried out.
– How soon he will come, – she was surprised, because three months and thirteen days before his arrival!
– For holiday, for good service, – the commander permitted.
When she heard it, my mother thought for a long time. Without closing her eyes, she looked into the ceiling. She seemed to have forgotten about me, and her heart felt deceived. When her gaze again fell on me, she opened her eyes widely, surprisedly said:
– How are you still here? Go, my son, go on. I am better now. Go home to Shafoat.
Shafoat stood up and approached us. She has calmed down a little.
– Mom, then we will go. I’ll be back tomorrow morning, she said.
– Go on, my children. Crossing the road carefully, kiss your daughters, Shafoat, – said the mother and closed her eyes, again immersed in her thoughts.
We went out on the street. My sister cried again. I asked her with a painful heart what happened to our mother.
– The tongue does not turn to say. You and I are the eldest in the family. Our mother has blood cancer, – she said.
I didn’t understand her words, not knowing what disease was blood cancer.
– It’s white blood, – Shafoat explained, no one has cured this disease yet. White blood cells eat red. Then the liver fails. Then…
Shafoat was a doctor. From her words I got stuck in place. My sister cried and took my hand. There was sweat on my forehead. The whole body was covered with cold steam. In just a few days, two such terrible events. One there, far away, outside of the country, the other here, in the native land.
I don’t know why, but I didn’t cry. When my mother died, I couldn’t cry too long. There was someone inside who was holding me back. It still seems like this someone is shaking my heart hard. But without tears on the day my mother died, then I cried every day, every hour. It was a cry without tears, silently crying soul. As a stranger, I watched her silently.
My sister and I went to my mother every day. Every day she was looking forward to us. She showed her hands and said with a sad smile:
– And the hands are all pale and pale. Blood is becoming less.
– Everything will be fine, soon. We will make a big celebration when Vahidjan returns. Repair as if nothing had happened, – the sister tried to reassure her.
– How do you know, daughter? They transfuse blood every day. No any changes. When I get up, my head turns. If only my Vahidjan would come alive and healthy. Only about it I think. He does not leave my dreams at all. Rashidjan, you should have visited all of them at home. Your father probably has his head around. And the kids missed you, – she said.
I could not even think about it. How could I leave my mom knowing what she was in?
Thus passed two weeks. In the morning, the sister took the children to the kindergarten. Her husband studied at the time in Moscow, in graduate school. So my sister and three children lived in town alone. The house, the children are all on it.
At ten o’clock we were finally in the hospital. When we entered the room, my mother was transfused blood. When she saw us, she shrugged her head and smiled. We passed carefully and sat down on our chairs. I quietly watched the glass hanging on the tripod from which the blood dropped. The drops slowly hanged, broke, hanged again, involuntarily I started counting them. I counted several hundred. Excited, I did not notice how the door to the chamber opened, how my mother's muddy pupils expanded.
– Son! – She cried, rushing up from the bed. I was encountered. There was a man in a soldier uniform on the doorstep. The soldier quickly approached and hugged her. Mother tightly grabbed the soldier’s neck, cried, her chilling voice filled the chamber:
– My dear son, have you come back? Thank God that I saw you. Now let him cleanse my soul. My son! Every day you dreamed of me. Thank God you are healthy. I have nothing to ask for now, neither from man nor from the God.
– Mom, go to bed! Go to bed! From the cry of my sister, I came in and looked at my mother. Blood flowed through her hands, sliding down, scattered over her clothes and painted it in red. I ran to her and took her shoulders, trying to lay down. But it was impossible to separate her from her son. A nurse came to help. Together we put my mom in some way. Taking the air in his hands, she was repeating: "Son! My dear! My son!" – she lost consciousness. I remember that day and I still hear my mother’s voice in my ears… What unfortunate days… What terrible days… I do not wish to survive them and my enemy.
In a moment, doctors entered the room. My mother was lying on white blankets. White sheets, white face, only on the chest was a bloody spot.
Strongly grabbing my brother’s hand, my native brother, in whose appearance I could not believe, I left the hospital. My sister followed us. Three of us, hugged, we cried long in the hospital garden. My brother’s face became unrecognizable. There is no eye. One hand is broken and we still don’t know what happened to it.
A cruel fate has thrown our family, so ignorant of fun or satiety, into the abyss called disaster. We walked along the wide city street, full of life, joy, cheerful faces and felt more unhappy. Everyone was busy with their thoughts. The blow of fate that has struck a man, sink