It all began with a knock at the door on a typical spring day. On the doorstep stood a military commissioner.
“Your son has passed away. heart failure. In a different city, he was buried with military honors.
Her powerful son? Did you pass away from heart failure? He didn’t even voice any complaints. Then the paperwork came in, and pneumonia was listed as the new cause.
A buddy of the son later arrived from the graveyard. The burial plaque’s birthdate was incorrect.
“He was born in 1999, but it states that he was born in 2000.”
The mother was unable to relax. Why was she not permitted to return to her hometown with the body? Why was everything hurried and so covert?
The mother took a stand. For a small charge, she employed two homeless men. Good night. old graveyard. The sound of shovels scraping against silence.
Sitting on a bench, the mother gazed at the floor.
“There!” exclaimed one of the diggers.
The casket showed up. Light. It’s too light.
The mother said, “He weighed almost ninety kilograms.”
The men lifted the lid.There was no coffee.
The people there screamed. The mother merely observed. Don’t cry. Not a sound.
“I knew,” she said in a whisper. “I was aware of his existence.”
The months that followed were terrible. military officials’ threats, complaints, and inspections. They informed her of the following: “technical glitch,” “accident,” and “mistake.”
As it happened, the military actually didn’t want any more conflict. Since the body was never located, but his companions noticed that he was injured, they recorded the first diagnosis and buried an empty casket.
The soldiers’ deaths were confirmed by the military.
The mother, however, waited. She thought her son was still alive.
Then a call came in the middle of the night, nearly six months later.
“It’s me, Mom.”
“Son?
“I spent a lot of time as a prisoner. But I’m alive now. I’m returning home.
For the first time in a long time, she sobbed and gave the phone a childlike hug.
