This story happened to my grandmother in the distant 40s. It so happened that she was widowed very early. And, as she now recalls herself, she was simply distraught then with grief. Not a day went by without my grandmother going to the grave of her deceased husband. A very young girl, forgetting about herself and work, sat in the cemetery and burst into tears. Sometimes she sat there until morning. Her parents and friends could not do anything about it. Until a couple of months later the inexplicable happened, which forever discouraged her from going to the churchyard.
That evening, along the already familiar road, past the old graves, she walked to her husband's grave, sat on a wooden bench and began to tell her deceased husband about how her next day had gone and how lonely she was without him. The monologue continued until the grandmother heard a crunch behind her back. Someone was approaching her.
Looking back, she saw an elderly woman. The stranger quietly sat down beside her and asked her who was buried here. And the grandmother seemed to burst. She told her that she had lost her husband and did not see the meaning of life without him. After a pause, the woman told her: “The living should think about the living. And here they will take care of your betrothed. It's too early for you here."
The grandmother then did not attach much importance to these words and, dissolving in her grief, continued to cry and did not notice how the stranger left.
The next evening she went to the grave again. But this time I decided to cut the road. After taking a few steps along the unfamiliar path, she felt her legs sink into the ground. Grandma found herself at the bottom of a freshly dug grave. Overhead were only a dozen stars in a rectangular frame.
After several attempts to get out, the grandmother realized that the earth was crumbling, and she could not reach the edge of the grave. Then she sat up and wept. She roared until, in the impenetrable darkness, she heard someone breathing.
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Not remembering herself from fear, the grandmother began to climb up. Fortunately, she groped for the roots of the tree, and, clinging to them, she managed to get out.
Forgetting about her dead husband and her grief, she rushed to the village with all her might. Then the grandmother came to her senses for a long time. Remembering everything that happened to her, she suddenly realized that she really wanted to live. And since then, my grandmother stopped going to the cemetery every day and was grief-stricken, and six years later she got married again.
Maya S.