The church was silent. Only the priest quietly read a prayer, while a distant relative sobbed softly against the wall.
Grandma lay there with a white scarf on her head, peaceful, as if she had simply fallen asleep after a long life.
I looked at her face and couldn’t believe I would never again hear her laughter or see her pour tea into her favorite glasses with metal holders.
My mother stood beside me, tense and rigid, as if she was afraid to cry. When the time came to say goodbye, she slowly stepped toward the coffin.
At first, I thought she just wanted to touch Grandma’s hand or whisper something to her one last time. But then I saw her glance around cautiously, take something out of her pocket, and — with an almost invisible movement — place it inside.
I noticed it was a small black pouch. I wanted to ask what it was, but I didn’t — it wasn’t the right time or place.
After the funeral, when we came home, I couldn’t hold back anymore:
— Mom, I saw you put something in Grandma’s coffin… what was it?
She stayed silent for a long time, then sighed and spoke softly… Her answer left me stunned 😢😱 Continued in the first comment 👇👇
— It was her wedding ring… not your grandfather’s.
I looked at her in surprise.
— When she was very young, she had a fiancé. His name was Nikolai. He went into the army and never came back — he was killed. And the ring he gave her, she kept for her entire life. Even when she married your grandfather, she could never throw it away. Once she told me: “If he’s waiting for me somewhere up there, I want him to recognize me by the ring.” She always loved only him.
My mother wiped away her tears and added:
— I think they’re together again now.