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He was crying. The baby bed was at the end of the parents' bed, no space in between. The other side a partial wall of the kitchen, where our mother was cooking. In the dim light I could see a small table with two chairs, a black-white tv on a tall sideboard, a window and the door. The whole house was about 3.5 meters by 5 meters, or smaller. Outside there was the 'World's End' and when mother asked permission from the old landlady who lived in the big house we could hike in the garden. I remember the barren trees, endlessly in the misty cold winter. I remember the white knitted hat I was wearing with a little blue pattern in it and my coat and how I held mother's hand in tranquility and silence.

The knitted hat was in my hand and the coat on me. We didn't take off my boots either. Brother was crying. He was two months old but his body curved as he wanted to turn around from his back.

I can hear him clearer than ever.

People came, and I know father was earlier at home, although he didn't come to me. I was standing by at the small table and saw as mother couldn't help. It was hot in the winter coat and my boots but the door was open often and no one closed it.

Someone held my hand, as my brother was taken away by the doctor.

The tiny dirt grave I was looking at was my brother. For me it was the same picture again and again engrafted into my memory. The little wooden cross had a white paint handwriting with his name as his clothes. He was looking at me, knowing me with his big brown eyes. We were at home again, in the dim light he was looking at me. He was calm, wondering and connecting.

As the days went by and the spring flowers came, each and every day we went there with mother where she silently sobbing tidied up the tiny hill.

Father never came.

The white paint with his name started to fade quickly. The marble stones near and around seemed unchanging. It looked the grave became smaller and smaller, though mother asked for a reek and nervously tried to remake it. I think we went there less and less after a while.

It took decades to understand, it was told to mother to stop going to visit him or she would be taken to a mental institute. In the peak of the communism, lacking true knowledge, hope and understanding, any support she didn't want to loose the other son, too...

Years passed and I was cycling like a madman to the cemetery. Having a nice conversation all of a sudden I asked for a bicycle. I had this sickness so it was like riding in the middle of the roads with a severe seasick and dizziness. I was sweating in the summer heat as I arrived to the graveyard and started to roam around. I don't know how much time passed. There was no sign of his place nor his cross. Finally, I found two marble graves put to the grave he was possibly buried. One from his left one from his right. I remembered the left one, it was there already that time...

It was empty. I was empty. Wanted to cry, shout, give away the pain. I just couldn't. I felt my brother's presence somewhere. Actually, I clearly felt his help to meet the True Parents and understanding and feeling God as Heavenly Father, Heavenly Parent.

He helped me, so I could have a beautiful, fruitful family. How could I have been angry and frustrated then?

It was only the latter times when mother freely could talk about him. She said I was wrong, I didn't cause brother's sickness, it was not that flu I passed onto him. A born illness, his brain grew faster than his skull and she said the doctors had foretold her the pressure would be too much. I was not sure she said it not to bear the guilt I had since I was two, or she just lost me in the years. It was more important that brother could return to our lives.

I realized mother couldn't pray. She only knew some standard lines she kept repeating all the time. When she came to the Peace Embassy I could freely teach her about the True Parents, God as our Heavenly Father, Heavenly Parent and the Providence of Restoration.

All in her life she didn't want to suffer anymore, ran far away.

Now, her second son together with the first born could save her and they started to live, again.

I love you, Brother, and please, look into my heart how happy I am for with and by You!

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