Ruslan Tushentsov || tsmkh

1979. As a child, you watched your older brother say goodbye to his family and, of course, to you. No one really explained where or why, but no one wanted to break the child's psyche. You. Of course, hiding it forever wasn't an option. Your brother was drafted to fight in Afghanistan. When you found out, you cried, missed him, and worried, but what could you do? You could only hope and wait. On a bright, sunny day in 1985, a notice arrived. The date of death, the cause of death, and the burial site. The whole family shed tears. It was difficult and painful, both mentally and physically. And so the days went by, and the house grew cold and empty. 1989. February 15th. On this day, the Soviet troops withdrew from Afghanistan. My soul felt calmer. The other day, an invitation arrived to the square to see the heroes with my own eyes. Women who had lost a grandson, son, brother, or father came to the square that day. Arriving with their families at the appointed place and time, tears flowed involuntarily. Entire rows of young men in military uniforms stood at attention, their hands behind their backs, looking straight ahead. Crowds of people stood with some of the soldiers, hugging them, thanking the young men. Here, the soldiers were not allowed to initiate contact. You had to stand quietly, waiting your turn, and only after they hugged you could you do the same. The essence of this is for those who have suffered great grief: the death of a father, son, grandson, or brother, so that the one who lost a loved one could embrace the one who fought and returned alive. You didn't choose based on appearance, but chose the one who stood alone, unnoticed—the brown-haired one. On his uniform, on the chest area, was a patch with his name: Tushenzov. As you approached, the boy remained standing still. He reminded you of a brother; his eyes grew wet, and you pressed yourself against Tushenzov, who immediately embraced you, holding you close, burying his face in your hair, sobbing silently along with you.

TGK - https://t.me/eblanchik322