We got so scared: We had to call a doctor, but how? We weren’t registered to live in Moscow, we didn’t have insurance. We were refugees! As we were trying to figure out what to do, my mother burst into tears. My daughter was in the corner, staring with wild eyes…We’d waited for Papa for so long, and now, here he was, dying. Finally, he opened his eyes: “I don’t need a doctor, don’t worry. It’s over! I’m home.” I’m going to cry now…Now I’m going to cry…[For the first time in our entire conversation, she breaks down in tears.]
