Brother and sister frantically quarreled over the apartment, the cries of adult children woke the old woman

What does "humanity" mean? It is the ability to be kind, to express sympathy And empathize with others. That's what makes us human. In the animal world, for example, the older you get, the less chance you have of survival. Animals are honest with themselves, and they do not know how to feel regret.



At the same time, we humans have created an entire infrastructure that provides a normal life for the elderly. There is both public and private assistance. Older people can feel comfortable even for relatively little money. And yet, what makes us human? This is an opportunity to help where it is needed. There's no one else to help but you.

After my five-year relationship ended in a copper pelvis, I spent another six months in a very deep depression. I didn't want to eat or drink. Friends and friends seemed distant and very annoying to me. Even my mother, with whom I was living at the time, did not awaken the most positive emotions in me. It was a nightmare, I would not wish that on anyone.

However, with a tremendous effort of will and thanks to parental help and care, I gradually began to recover. Day after day, week after week, I took my life into my own hands again and even began to communicate with other people. Subsequently, I got a job, moved out of my mother’s house to learn how to live independently, and that page of my life was passed.

547240

To somehow learn to appreciate life even more, I got a job as a nurse for the elderly. At first, of course, it was very difficult. Unusual, sometimes even disgusting and repulsive. But over time, I began to realize that we are all human and old age will come to each of us. I learned to understand old people and their needs.

So I was invited to take care of a very old woman. She was in her 90s, and she was mostly already lying down. She went to the bathroom, but it took all her energy for the day. Mostly she lay with her eyes closed, but she was conscious and did not sleep. I, to Veronica Andreevna was not so bored, put music on the background or just told her some stories from life.

It was obvious when she liked my choice of composition or my stories, and when not so. My grandmother could smile or press her lips. I learned to pay attention to it, so we even talked. Not a very diverse "communication," of course, but better than nothing.



And I was hired by her children: a plump, short man named Eugene and a thin and also short Elizabeth. Although they were polite to me, they constantly argued among themselves, even screaming. The reason for their argument was the apartment. They couldn't share it. We are talking about the three-room apartment of Veronika Andreevna, the one in which she lived and in which I took care of her.

It was strange to see two grown-ups fighting each other. Each of them had their own reasons: family, debts, hopes and prospects. But I've noticed that they don't really have any sympathy for each other.

In general, I did not pay attention to their claims against each other. Because it's none of my business, after all. And it was clear that in fact they are not poor: good clothes, well-groomed faces. And they did not refuse to pay for my help either. In general, I adhere to the rule not to go where you do not ask. In this case, I did the same.



However, it was unpleasant for me to see how, because of the screams behind the wall, Veronika Andreevna’s lips became thin as strings. What to do, children are children for life. No matter how old they are, you treat them like little ones.

One day, when I was taking care of an old woman in the evening, a strange sound alerted me. The fact is that I learned plus or minus when Veronika Andreevna fell asleep, and in order not to spray in vain, I just read one of the books I brought with me. My grandmother would wake up early in the morning and need help. So why not spend that time well?

But that time she woke up much earlier, and she even had the strength to call me. She barely pointed her finger at the top of the closet and leaned back, clearly exhausted. I unwittingly succumbed to her instructions, climbed into the closet and got her everything I found there. They were old things that had no material value except memories. There was some boutonniere, photos of a young landlady of the apartment, brooches, hairpins and a book about composers of the past.



Veronika Andreevna looked at her long-forgotten treasures, smiled, and tears flowed down her cheeks. She didn’t even look at me, she could see that she had completely moved into the past. I was sitting next to her, with my shoulder, helping her to keep her balance and look at the artifacts of her life. Early in the morning she was gone, and as a memory I got the same picture of a young woman who left in my arms. Quiet, peaceful and calm.

When her children heard the news, there was a strange change in them. From two loud, selfish men, they instantly turned into adults, serious people. Yevgeny asked me if his mother was in pain. I replied as it is: she left in peace.

A minute later, two adults, a brother and sister, were cuddling with tears in their eyes. They cried quietly, erasing all past disputes and misunderstandings. I'd like to ask or find out how they're going to share or what they're going to do with the apartment. But, following my own rule, I decided to keep quiet.



I still care for the elderly. I love this job because I can learn a lot about people when they are most open. And that's how I know myself. I also have an old framed photo in the sideboard, in a very prominent place. It depicts a young woman full of hope and energy. Something fascinates me with this photo of Veronica Andreevna. A woman who lived her whole life and left in the most peaceful way. I'll probably never forget her now.