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Παρασκευή, 11 Ιανουαρίου 2019

THE END OF THE CHRISTIAN CHILD. Testimonies about the dead, the immortality of the soul and the afterlife


“In the sixties, I lived in the village of Red, on the Raevsky estate, with my son Viktor,” says Bernasconi, an old woman of sixty-five. - he was a wonderful child, agile, intelligent, developed over the years, and, moreover, differed remarkable piety. All those around him loved him, not excluding the common people. When he was five years old, he fell ill with diphtheria. One morning, he says to me: “Well, Mom, I have to die today, so you can make me a bath so that I can appear clean to God.” I began to object that he would be worse off of this, he could catch a cold, but he insistently demanded a bath, and I gave in to his request - I washed him, dressed him in clean linen and laid him on the bed. “Now, mother, give me a little bit here, the one that I love so much,” he asked, and I complied with his request.

“Hurry, mother, give me a candle in my hand, I'll die now,” the child demanded, and I lit a wax candle and put it in his hand. “Well, now goodbye, mom!” were the last words of the child. He closed his eyes and died instantly. 

For me, the loss of this child was hopeless grief, I cried day and night, not finding anything of comfort. But one day in winter, when I woke up in the morning, I heard the voice of my son Victor on the left side of my bed, who called me: “Mom, mom, are you awake?”.

Startled, I replied: yes, I'm not sleeping, and turned my head in the direction from which the voice came, and - lo and behold! - I saw my Victor standing in light clothes and looking at me sadly. It seemed that the light was coming straight from him, because the room was so dark that without it I could not see it. He stood so close to me that my first impulse was to rush to him and press him to my heart; but as soon as that thought flashed through my mind, he warned me: "Mom, don't touch me, you can't touch me." And with these words he moved back a little. I began to silently admire him, and in the meantime he continued to say: “Mom, you are still crying about me, why are you crying? I am well there, but it would be even better if you cried less. Do not cry." And he disappeared.

Two years later, Victor came to me again when I was in the bedroom: “Mom, why do you need Olya, she is too much for you,” he said. (Olya is my daughter, who was about a year old at that time.) When I asked if they would take her too, he said: “She is superfluous,” and disappeared. Two weeks before her death, he again appeared and said: "Mom, Olya is superfluous for you: you are all big, she will only disturb you." I was sure that my daughter would die, and two weeks later, when she came home, she was not at all surprised when the nurse announced that the child had fever and then two days later Olya was dead ”

(“ Rebus ”, 1893, No. 2). 
Testimonies about the dead, the immortality of the soul and the afterlife

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