Inna had died on Sunday, on Easter.
Zhenya has a lump in his throat can’t find the strength to say anything. I don’t have a lump, nor do I have tears. Only the desire to slap upside the head everyone who complains about their life.
I realize almost nobody will read the story of Inna’s family.
Because the situation was so hopeless it was hard to believe. The frightful diagnoses, illnesses, incurably ill children, disabled parents, and war.
And I’m not angry you don’t read such stories.
That’s normal. I wouldn’t read them either. I would have preferred to not know about them, but life decided otherwise.
Those things from which I turned my head away my whole conscious life is now right in front of me.

Inna and son Egor.

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