Written from my grandmother's Iraida name:
It was still 1941, cold autumn, night time. I was in my bed in the living room.
Some one knocked the door. My father went to see who it was.
I woke up and I saw my uncle Mitia's girlfriend Tamara. She was without warm clothes and without a world she walked to the table near the window and set down.
"Mitia, Mitia, Mitia" - Tamara said, she had a small paper in her hand. Tamara was shaking as she was holding her hand with this paper.
My father entered the room, his face was white.
My mother came from my parents bed room.
And instantly my mother covered her mouth, I noticed her hand was shaking, then she started to cry, she was standing near the door, than she set on a small stool.
I was crying too, in my pillow. I knew what happened.
My father slowly walked to Tamara and read the paper, he read it and I saw tears in his eyes. He hugged Tamara.
All night Tamara was saying only:"Mitia, Mitia, Mitia, MItia, Mitia!".
The next day I did not go to school, no one asked me what happened, everyone knew.
Then we received notice that my uncle Petia was killed. It was still autumn 1941.
Poems,stories and pictures by Irina Mouravleva.
