This incident happened many years ago. I then studied at the SPTU. Once I received a telegram from my mother. I read it and can't believe my eyes: it turned out that my grandfather died!
How so? After all, he was so healthy, cheerful! I immediately rushed to the village where my grandmother and grandfather lived. All the way I tried to come to terms with the idea that my beloved grandfather was no longer there. I believed it only when I got to the place and saw him in the coffin.
He won't hurt me
They invited the priest, as it should be, so that he buried the deceased. At that time, the village priests lived mainly on what would be served, because ours did not refuse anything. His mother fed him, brought him a glass of vodka, then a second, a third … As a result, the bottle was empty. Despite this, the priest was at his best and did everything that was required of him as it should.
After the funeral, a commemoration took place. Meanwhile, the time came to night. My grandfather lived in a small house, there were no extra beds there, so the question arose about who would sleep in grandfather's bed. Since he died on it (in a dream, his heart refused), no one expressed a special desire to go to bed there. Everyone was somehow uncomfortable. At that time, I did not particularly believe in the afterlife and life after death and stated:
- I'll go to bed.
Mom made me a new mattress and linen. At the same time, she asked several times:
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- Not afraid? I answered:
- Even if all these stories about the afterlife are true, my grandfather loved me and will not hurt me.
Restless night
We went to bed. At about eleven o'clock, I suddenly felt a breath of breeze. This surprised me, because I knew that all windows and doors were closed. And then suddenly the floorboards began to creak, as if someone invisible was walking slowly through the house. I even heard someone's heavy breathing. At the same time, there was deathly silence in the house. The crickets, which usually chirp all night, and they disappeared somewhere. Someone invisible continued to roam the house. Oddly enough, at that moment I was not afraid. And after a while everything calmed down, and I fell asleep soundly.
In the morning, everyone who spent the night in the house was depressed and silent. After breakfast, my aunt suddenly mentioned that she heard floorboards creak, footsteps and breathing. Then the others admitted that they had heard the same thing. As it turned out, no one slept that night, everyone lay until morning, afraid to even move. It seems that only I managed to fall asleep.
“It was my grandfather who came home,” I suggested, and immediately realized that I had said this in vain. It was necessary to see the faces of my relatives at that moment. Everyone seemed to think about it that way, only no one dared to express this assumption aloud.
The next night came. And again at eleven o'clock, grandfather made himself felt. He knocked quite loudly on the window next to the bed on which I slept. I got up, looked out into the street, but in the pitch darkness I saw no one. That my grandfather was there, I had no doubt. The window overlooked the side of the house, where a fence towered and raspberry bushes grew. People never walked there, only the ubiquitous chickens climbed.
Strange dreams
Then grandfather began to appear to everyone in dreams. I dreamed of him coming home in the evening, shaking off the ground from
jacket and trousers and sits down at the table. We offer him food, but he does not eat. He just sits silently and, breathing heavily, looks at us with a kind of extinct look. I guessed where he came from, but I did not dare to ask what was there and how. He probably wouldn't have answered. And then morning came, grandfather got up and left. I had this strange dream several times. At the same time, I was not scared, only very, very sad. Grandmother said that in her sleep, her grandfather constantly asks for a smoke.
Once my father and I went to the cemetery. They came to the grave of the grandfather, sat, said a few words, addressing the deceased. Father lit a cigarette and put it on the grave.
Oddly enough, we sat in the cemetery for another twenty minutes, and the cigarette did not go out. It smoked, gradually turning into ash, as if someone were smoking it. By the way, in those days, cigarettes did not differ in special quality, they went out as soon as you light them.
Before leaving, the father turned to his grandfather, asked if he had gotten high, and asked his grandmother not to bother him anymore. Since then, her grandfather no longer addressed her with such requests. Only occasionally did I appear to my grandmother or daughters - my mother and aunt.
Since then, I have become interested in life after death and read a lot of literature on this topic. Now I am sure that death is not the end.
Alexander YUSHAKOV, Shuya, Ivanovo region