Don’t ask me again...

This story was told to me by our accountant, and it happened with her friend - Valentina.  

Valentina’s life was not much different from other people. She grew up in a happy family, graduated from university, worked as an accountant at a factory, got married, and a few years later had a daughter Anastasia. Seemed like a normal life, nothing to complain about…  

When she was 2 years old, her daughter Nastya was diagnosed with a serious illness. I do not remember the exact diagnosis, but it had something to do with cancer. And the diagnosis was not very promising. Her dad did not show his best side – he said, that he didn’t need a sick child, packed up his things and left and never again appeared in their lives. Valentina was left alone with her problems, though, her parents and friends all helped as much as they could. But Nastya was quietly getting worse. Two years in hospitals, surgeries , various medications , trips to the consultations with the best and the brightest doctors, and no improvement. Nothing... No results. The daughter was slowly dying in front of her eyes. And, of course, she kept going to church to pray. Valentina prayed to God with all her heart and asked all the saints for the salvation of her child. She wept in front of the icon of the Mother of God, pleading to help heal her daughter. 

Then came the most critical moment: Nastya was in the hospital, covered with tubes and droppers, she could not get up anymore, and the doctors have said firmly - this is the end, her last weeks, no chance of survival. There was an option to do one more surgery, but it would give her one chance in a million that it would help instead of simply delaying the inevitable for a couple of weeks or that Nastya would not die in the operating room. It made no sense to make the child suffer in the end, but Valentina still cherished the hope that the surgery could help and kept begging doctors to operate. All night before the operation she sat beside her daughter’s bed, again and again appealing to the Blessed Virgin Mary, asking for help, so she would give Nastya strength to survive the surgery. Completely exhausted and devastated, she dozed off sitting in a chair, right before dawn. And she had a dream that the Virgin Mary came to her, looked at her with a serious expression on her face and almost angrily said: “I can help your daughter. She will recover. But you should NEVER ask me about ANYTHING again.”  

The surgery was successful. Nastya slowly but surely started to recover. All medical staff of the hospital was glowing with joy together with her mother – it was a miracle... Of course, it was not a miraculous recovery by a wave of a wand, but it was still a miracle, because before there was no hope. It took another six months of treatment and rehabilitation to completely beat the disease. 

Nastya started school with her peers. Imagine how happy her mother was. Nastya was growing up a pretty , intelligent , active girl. She was a true sunshine for her mother who gave all she had to raise her daughter well. Valentina completely forgot about herself, she didn’t try to create a new family; there was only one meaning in her life – Nastya.  

Nastya grew up, graduated from high school, enrolled in the university; she wanted to become an interpreter. Over time, Valentina began noticing that her daughter was behaving strangely: she neglected her classes, became irritable, yelled all the time, was hysterical, and had wandering eyes. She did not realize right away what was happening. Or maybe she did not want to realize that after everything they had been through before, they would have to deal with this horror – drugs.  

What happened next is difficult to describe. Nastya dropped out from the university, started taking valuables out of the house, screamed at her mother all the time demanding money for the next dose . When she didn’t get what she wanted, she beat her mother, pulled out her hair, pushed her into the bathroom, closed the door, and searched the apartment for things to sell for drugs. Then she started making money doing prostitution, because her “mother was greedy" and didn’t give her cash, and whatever she did give her was not enough. In general, it is difficult to tell what was harder for Valentina: dealing with a dying child or with a grownup addict. 

Of course, she begged, pleaded, and scolded her daughter. Three times she committer her to rehab centers for drug addicts. But nothing worked. Every time after a treatment course in rehab, just a couple days later, Nastya got high. Addiction is such a problem that until you decide to get rid of it – no one and nothing can help you. And it seems that Nastya didn’t want to…  

And, of course, Valentina again prayed for her child. But prayers, the same as last time, were not being answered. One time, when in a fit of another withdrawal Nastya once again beat her mother and tore off a pair of gold earring out of her ears before running away, Valentina in a moment of sheer desperation was crying on the couch. She lay with her face buried in a pillow, and she was at the same time praying and cursing God and Virgin Mary for everything that she had to endure. It seemed that with those prayers and curses her soul was leaving her in bits as well. Then she fall asleep and saw another dream: as if in a chair opposite the couch there sat the Virgin Mary, so thoughtful and sad. And she said, staring at the ceiling, as if to herself: "I told you not to ask me of anything again. Even then I was not supposed to intervene and help you. Your daughter was not destined to survive. That was her fate, her path in this life. And you were meant to have another family and two children. And you would have raised them to be amazing, significant people. But you held on to your daughter so tightly, didn’t want her to go so badly, that we realized that if we took her away, you would not be able to fulfil all that your destiny had for you in store and would go after your daughter . So we left Nastya with you – but with no destiny . What came of it – you can see for yourself. Very soon it will all go away. Hang on. And I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to you, but your prayers really touched me.” 

A month later, Nastya died of an overdose . She lay dead for two days lay in the crack house among addicts who were so high they did not even realize that one of them was gone. Valentina found her herself. Concerned with her long absence , she went to check all the places she knew where her daughter hung out. When she got to that crack house, there was only a stoned owner who could barely stand on his feet and barely moving his tongue was trying to persuade her not to enter the room: “Don’t go there ... it’s scary! Nastya is dead ... it stinks ..." 

It has been five years since then. Valentina is scary to look at – not a person, but a ghost, like a zombie. She walks, she talks, but her eyes are empty, and there are no emotions on her face. She is completely gray in her early 50s. She only leaves her apartment to go to the store, to church and to the grave of her daughter. And she keeps asking to take her away soon…