A person is often so arranged that he tries to save money on anything, and in cemeteries you can find sweets and flowers and even various dishes. Some even go so far as to bring sand or gravel from the cemetery for repairs. At the same time, there is an old superstition that no things should be taken from the cemetery, even those that look accidentally lost.
What is the essence of this superstition? Someone explains everything by the fact that “the dead don’t just give anything away and will avenge what was stolen”, someone tries to explain the bad (dead) energy of the cemetery, which can be “brought into the house” and thereby bring troubles and illnesses to the members families, in the main, they just say "you can't and that's it."
It's up to you to believe or not to believe in this superstition, but even people who do not consider themselves superstitious find a special mysticism in the cemetery that no one wants to touch.
Each of us at least once in our lives heard a story from our loved ones that made us, if not believe, then at least think: is it really so dangerous to take things from the cemetery? Below are some stories about what happened to people who took different things from the cemetery.
Mom's complaint
My mother, who lived in Irkutsk, decided one day to gather all the children closer to her. My sister and brother quickly got over to her, and I kept pulling, it just didn't work out. As a result, my mother did not wait for me. I moved after her death.
The first thing after the move, I decided to go to my parents' cemetery. On the weekend, my husband and I got together, went to the market. I bought a large bouquet of asters. From the house I took a vase for flowers. It was made in the form of a blossoming lily. True, when moving to Irkutsk, one petal broke off.
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We arrived, swept it in the enclosure, I dug a hole in the grave mound, buried a vase up to its neck in it, put flowers. We sat with my husband, remembered the dead and went home.
Three days have passed, I have a dream. Mom came and said:
- Natalya, you brought me such a beautiful vase, and they stole it. And here there is no porcelain, only iron! - and cries.
I woke up not myself. Day I walk, two, sleep does not go out of my head. I could not stand it, I told my husband, I say:
- Let's go to the cemetery. Bad mom.
Husband brushed me off:
- Your stupidity is all, it cannot be.
For two days I bored him, finally, on Saturday he agreed to go. We arrived at the cemetery. As soon as I opened the door in the enclosure, I saw: a bouquet of asters was thrown between the graves, and the hole was empty. I picked up the bouquet, turned to my husband:
- Well, you see what I told you, mom won't just bother you!
And he stands, grabbed a birch tree, and the white himself:
- You know, if I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it!
I dug a hole, spread the flowers all over the grave, and dug a beautiful porcelain cup into the ground under the monument. They won't dig it up this time. Mom will be there. I never saw her again in my dreams.
As for the stolen vase … Don't people know that nothing can be taken from the cemetery, it will be bad for them? I was taught this from childhood. I have now passed 60 years, and I still remember such a case.
Once my brother and I picked up at the cemetery full of pockets of bird cherry berries. Our grandmother saw, made everything pour out, and even slapped it. And she explained what happens to those who take the graveyard. It is believed that even if you lost something in the cemetery, do not return and do not look: it means that the dead need it more. But the fate of the vase thieves is, of course, unknown to me.
Natalia Fyodorovna PAVLOVA, Baikalsk, Irkutsk region
Blue chrysanthemums
My sister Lyuba was married for love. And the future mother-in-law did not like her very much. She dissuaded her son from the wedding. Is there anything that can get in the way if people love each other? They just signed, that's all. Any husband was immediately given a one-room apartment from the factory.
Then they had two daughters in a row. You need to rejoice, but the mother-in-law did not calm down - I will divorce you. Lyuba only smiled:
- What are you, mom, why do we disperse? We love each other. We have a family.
A relative died one winter. We were all at the cemetery. People brought wreaths. At that time, in winter, fresh flowers were not available. So they carried either paper or plastic. I noticed one such bouquet - it was blue chrysanthemums.
Some time passed, everyone forgot about the funeral. And then came the 8th of March.
I was with my sister when her mother-in-law came to her. She brought her a bouquet of artificial blue chrysanthemums wrapped in newspaper as a present. She sat for a while and left. And by evening Lyuba felt bad. She had a headache and nausea. And every day she got worse. The visit to the doctors gave nothing. The tests were good, and my sister was literally dying.
And so my mother and I were sitting by Lyuba's bed, and my mother looked at the table, where the chrysanthemums presented by my mother-in-law stood in a vase, and said:
- What flowers are blue!
And I remembered:
- I saw the same, they were brought to a relative's grave.
Mom heard this, took the flowers and left. Then she said that she came to the intersection of four roads, broke all the flowers and scattered them in different directions, repeating: "From which side evil came, go there." After that, the sister recovered, and her mother-in-law soon died.
Lyuba and her husband looked after her grave. We lived in Uzbekistan, it is warm there even in winter. Perennials were planted on the graves. But on the grave of the mother-in-law, except for weeds, nothing grew, and the earth was like stone.
Ludmila Dmitrievna CHAZOVA, Ulyanovsk
Old bedspread
Old people say correctly: nothing can be taken home from the cemetery. I was convinced of this from my own experience.
Several years ago, my mother, sister and brother and I went to the village in the spring to visit and clean up my stepfather's grave. We saw that our old blanket from the chair was lying on a bench near the burial. Before us, my daughter and her son-in-law visited the grave, so they forgot.
I rolled up the blanket, put it in a bag, thought: it will come in handy in the country.
We removed the grave, renewed the wreaths. Then they sat down, remembered and left the cemetery.
But I suddenly felt bad: I had a headache, began to feel nauseous. As we moved away from the cemetery, I got worse and worse. I even had to sit on a bench near the nearest house, and then call an ambulance.
It turned out that my blood pressure had jumped. I was given an injection, but did not feel better soon. We even missed the regular bus, we had to get there by hitchhiking. And suddenly it dawned on me - the thing is in the veil, which I took from the cemetery!
I mentally began to ask forgiveness for my mistake from my late stepfather and other deceased relatives. And I felt how it became easier for me. And that unfortunate blanket, without bringing it home, I took it to the trash heap. I don't know what it was: a coincidence or really the dead decided to punish me.
Taisiya EGOROVA, Dimitrovgrad, Ulyanovsk region
Geranium from the cemetery
In 1984 our father died. He was buried in a new cemetery recently opened outside the city. Every Sunday my mother and sister went to see him. Let's pick up, remember. Mom will sit by the grave and go for a walk in the cemetery. We scolded her: she came to her father - be near his grave.
In the fall, I went to the cemetery alone. When I returned, I got tired and stopped near one grave. An elderly woman was sitting on a bench there. Geranium bushes grew on the grave. I saw such geranium for the first time - bright red, fluffy.
The woman asked: "Do you like it?" - and tore one bush out of the ground for me. Then I did not know yet that nothing can be taken from the cemetery. Arriving home, I planted geraniums in a pot. She hadn't wilted, but she didn't look good.
Our mother, meanwhile, has changed. I longed for my father, cried, everything taught my sister and me how to live after her death. In the summer, I transplanted a flower to the garden. In just a week, he came to life. But my mother fell ill. She died soon after. When the neighbors in the yard were saying goodbye to her, one of them said:
- What a beautiful geranium! Rip off, put your mother on the grave.
I did so.
Later, becoming wiser, I realized that the neighbor should be thanked. A flower brought from the cemetery could take the life of not only my mother, but also mine and my sister's. And so the geranium returned to where I had brought it from, and did not harm anyone else.
Lidia Borisovna MIKHAILOVA, Orenburg