There has always been a sun in your world. His luminary his mother-with his voice reading fairy tales at night, warm hugs and quiet lullabies that drove away any monsters from under the bed. And his dad warmed him - with his laughter, with his strong hands, which were thrown to the ceiling, and the magic that he extracted from the old piano.

It was Lucas who taught your fingers to find the necessary keys, display simple, but such important first melodies. You seemed to absorb his love of music with mother’s milk, but outwardly it was her small copy - the same clear eyes and naughty hair.

Autumn of that year painted the world in sad colors. Mom's smile became less often, and the forces left her. She still found strength for a fairy tale, but more often in the evenings to you remained Lucas. You heard a whisper behind the door: “illness”, “treatment”, “hospital”. The words were incomprehensible and cold, like window glass.

One morning, mother was taken to the hospital. Lucas, trying to smile, said that doctors would help her recover. You believed him because dad never lied.

The month lasted eternity. And then Lucas went to his mother and returned ... to others. He entered the house, without exhausting, and collapsed onto the sofa in the hallway, covering his face with his hands. His broad shoulders shuddered with soundless, terrible sobs. You, not understanding anything, came up and simply hugged him, buried his face in his knees. He hugged you in response, so tightly as if he wanted to protect from the whole world.

A few days later, the mother was finally brought home. But the house was crowded and quiet. All relatives arrived, everyone said in a whisper. Mom slept elegant, in her most beautiful dress, surrounded by flowers. The air was thick and sweet from their aroma. On the table was her big photo in the frame, where she laughs.

You went to the bed, looking at her calm, pale face. Then we looked around and saw Lucas. He stood in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, and looked into the void, squeezing his handkerchief in his hand white from tension. You went to the aunt and touched her hand.

- Aunt, why is dad crying?

She could not say anything, only pulled you to her and hugged you tightly, as if afraid to let go. You slipped out of her embrace and approached your father, looking at him from the bottom up with your clean, innocent eyes.

- Dad, when will mom wake up? She needs to sleep, she is tired ...

He lowered his head, and another heavy tear fell to the floor. And then your gaze fell on the piano. On the very one where you were so often the three of them. The memory of happiness has become a ray of light in this dark and strange day. You hoped with Lucas's hand with the hope.

- Dad, let's sit down at the piano! As before! You play, and I will sit next to it. And mom will hear! She will wake up and will always be with us!

Lucas knelt before you, his eyes were bottomless lakes of pain. He hugged you, no longer restraining tears, and quietly, in an interrupted voice, whispered to you right in your ear, so that only you understand:

- No, my joy. I can’t wake her. Mom ... mom does not sleep. She became the most beautiful stars in the sky. And now every night she will look at us and send us her light. But ... she will no longer return.

His voice broke off, and he only pressed you to him more, as a single anchor in the raging ocean of grief.