I carry you on my hands. (A family legend

There is such a parable. It’s long and long, I’ll say briefly.
One person was very bad. Then it became easier. He looked back on the road, saw only traces on the sand and cried out, “God, when I was very ill, you weren’t with me!” He replied, “When you were very ill, I carried you on my arms. It was my trail.”
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I had a relative in the militia, in small positions, in the Luhansk region. In their small town, where everyone knows each other, he was on a good count: grades, thanks, encouragement. But when Yanukovych came and everywhere began to establish his orders and his people, they sent them a new chief from the neighboring Donetsk region. Something there did not work well at all, and my brother-in-law sent a new boss to Matt.

It takes a little bit to understand the situation. Relations between Donetsk and Luhansk regions have always been emotionally difficult. First, they are very different in income (Donetsk is noticeably richer), and they are different in mentality. They never lived together; they were forever dogged. They even now, on a tiny territory with seemingly common interests, managed to split into 2 micro-republics.

The boss replied, “I will do it to you!” And as is accepted in these structures, a couple of months later I made a pledge, and my relative was illuminated by the court and the line.

Such a turn of events for our large family is very uncommon. We do not have the tradition of communicating with the prison services. My aunt, the grandmother of the mentioned relative, a soulful and believing man, was very concerned and prayed a lot that her nephew this fate would be bypassed. My aunt is a special person in that sense.

She once said, “I lie in bed at night, and it’s like my neighbor dreams. I know she is in the hospital and is very ill. And so I felt sorry for her, that she was a woman so lonely, with an unstructured destiny, she had no one. I began to pray for her. He prayed strongly. And then, a few weeks later, the neighbor returned to the hospital, went to visit and said, “You know, but I was dead. And then they met me, and said, for you a sinless soul asked very much, you are still early, come back. I think it was you.”

But this time my grandmother’s prayers didn’t help.

When there was a trial, the judge gave a lot, 2 years. Then just fantasy began. A local prosecutor appealed the decision – an unheard of case in a small town where everyone knows about everyone. Never before or after that has this happened in this district court. Larchik opened simply – the prosecutor, as it turned out, was a cum to the new chief of the police. He, in fact, drew his friend to his city for the chief post. Such an untouchable tandem formed. There was a new trial, and the boy was jailed for 7 years. Our family was very, very upset.

The man was sent to a special colony for police officers. The conditions there, of course, are noticeably more humane than in other similar places. The contingent is more cultural. A little later, since the guy was working, calm and understandable, and the work of his hands never frightened him, he was generally transferred to the settler regime. We also helped them as we could.
Soon after the second trial the Maidan-2014 took place, followed by military actions in the aforementioned Donetsk and Luhansk regions. Through the same county township, the front line went there and there. All the male youths tried to put under the rifle. And the servants, of course. officers, and for a long time. Some of the co-workers of the parish died, many live with tortured bodies or psyche. I’m not specifically talking about whose boyar my relatives or I would prefer to see.Believe me, when you look into the eyes of the survivors, you understand that it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that people very, very wanted to live and that it all ended as soon as possible. My relatives, while the front was running around the city, were forced to escape first through the basements, and then by fleeing for a month and a half. It was scary. Aunt, while they were sitting in the basements, for example, forbade relatives from gathering in one place and said, "I remember this from the war. We can’t all get together, even if someone has to stay alive.” Fortunately, when they returned to their home, they survived, although the neighbor was completely destroyed. After a while, he returned home on amnesty. That is logical in his case. He is currently working in another job, helping his family.

Looking back, the aunt once told her relatives about her grandson, “You see how well God has ordered. We were all so worried. But if it were not for this whole court, it would have been forced to fight either the white or the red. Unlike us, he would not have been able to escape from the city. He was a policeman. It is not yet known how it would end for him. And so he stayed this time, though not in very good conditions, but there was warm, dry, fed, and, most importantly, there were no shots. He sleeps quietly at night, not jumping up like his friends.”

As I said before, “I carried you on my arms.”