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The Last Picture

Vitaliy Shpak

From the memories of his son Nicholas

Hospital. A large, bright single-person room with a comfortable medical grade bed, two chairs, a couch, a wall-mounted TV, and many other things that are always there, bed, two armchairs, a couch, a wall-mounted TV, and many other things that always amazed and surprised mom – Tamara Mavasheva. Mom went into the hospital for unbearable pain in her legs, especially in the upper part. The pain in her leg came on for no apparent for no apparent reason, started in the lumbar region and moved to the buttock area, then it spread the back of her thighs and reached her shins, feet and even her fingertips. She endured the pain for two days, then asked to go to the hospital.

On that third day in the hospital, there was no sign of trouble. In the morning in the morning, the nurses suggested that she use colored felt-tip pens to color a piece of paper of paper and a plastic, transparent bird figure. Mom used bright colors of the rainbow

Last creation

which surprised the doctors, and she laughed and said: “They’re testing my mental faculties. We laughed a lot and joked about it. After lunch, mom was given a painkiller and she fell asleep. There was music playing in the room with the TV on on the TV.

Oddly enough, no one from the medical staff bothered her. Usually nurses are always coming in, saying something, asking something and leaving without giving the patient the patient to rest. Today no one bothered her.

She looked rested. Mom’s face was perfectly calm, she was asleep. Я stroked her head and waited for her to wake up and say, as she had done more than once: “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll lie down a little longer. But for the first time mom didn’t respond to my caresses.
The doctors pronounced her dead. Quiet and peaceful, with no worries or concerns to the family around her. She died as she had asked ha: If I am to die. let me be of sound mind and not a burden to those around me.” She didn’t allow us to see her helplessness and dependence on anyone, and she was 95 years old. Mom was buried in San Diego at El Camino Memorial Park Cemetery (5600 Carroll Canyon Rd., San Diego, CA 92121).
The mere mention of Mom saddens and delights, stirs and stirs.
The memory of her, someone very near and dear to me, is my joy and my pain, my my pride and my anger. Joy because she was my friend both in happy days and in the years of our common misfortune. Pain because the loss of someone so close to me is irreparable. Pride in the knowledge that this person is your mother, who has done a lot of good not only to us children just to us kids. And the anger is resentment that I didn’t want to say goodbye to her the way I wanted to. to let her go, I couldn’t foresee her death that day.

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