Tamara, my sister, died suddenly. The doctors said the clot ... Boris, her husband and my friend seemed to have died with his beloved. Like faded — dull steel eyes, face, voice. My main task was not to let Borka drown in the abyss of despair. Every morning they came in with Tamara's apartment, forced him to get out of bed and to Breakfast. To somehow distract from the sad thoughts, I once pulled out of the bag laptop. The poor man's eyes flashed for a moment, but they dimmed again. Why? None of this makes any sense.… I even burst into tears of resentment and went home. The next day I, as always, looked to my son-in-law and was surprised: he was sitting at the computer and at the sight of me even smiled slightly: — Sorry, Currency, you must be with me tortured... guiltily lowered her eyes, my friend. The main task I considered not to allow Borka to go crazy from grief and despair. Then it turned out that the opportunity to visit Boris I had only two weeks later. Called, but nobody
