Arround one year ago, the sister of a very good friend of ours, died.
She was 32 years old (or something like that) and she left behind her husband and 2 sons (one 3 years old and the other one 7 month old).
The story is very short: she gave birth to the second child with cezarian -because of health reasons- and after the operation they could not stabilize her blood pressure, but otherwise everything was OK. When the child was 3 month old, she felt sick a little, but not big deal. Afterwards, she started vomiting, so they decited to call ambulance. As it came, the situation was already critic. Arriving at the hospital, she fell in coma: brain stroke. And she remained in (this) coma for almost 4 month long, then she died...
Tragic, painful, hopeless, however you can call this situation, it is not enaugh... I was there, I saw her, I saw them. Words are useless...
Yesterday, I saw her husband and the youngest boy again. The kid has grown, like nothing bad in this world has happened: he is handsome and friendly... The husband has in between a lot of gray hairs and he is a bit confused... He told me that in between he found another girlfriend... and I had the feeling that he was trying to justify this to me... "she likes the children and she likes me. Besides, I remained faithful to the skincolour: my girlfriend comes from Kenya" (the late wife was from Cameron)
I stood without a whisper, bloked (what the hell is this guy talking? the wife recently...). Then (what the hell did you expect, Elena, you wanted him better to go mad on the thomb of his late wife?) I said "you know what, Rolf, you are biggest fighter and the biggest winner I saw in my life". I mean it.
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