home arrow memory book arrow Frolova, Vera

home | домой



Kurbatova, Christina
Милые, хорошие наши детки!!! Так просто не должно быть, это больно, это нечестно, это ужасно.
30/06/24 01:30 more...
author Ольга

Grishin, Alexey
Памяти Алексея Дмитриевича Гришина
Светлая память прекрасному человеку! Мы работали в ГМПС, тогда он был молодым начальником отдела металлов, подающим боль...
14/11/23 18:27 more...
author Бондарева Юлия

Panteleev, Denis
Вот уже и 21 год , а будто как вчера !!!!
26/10/23 12:11 more...
author Ирина

Ustinovskaya, Yekaterina
24/10/23 17:44 more...
author Аноним

Bochkov, Alexei
Терракт в Палестине, Сектор Газа
Сегодня в гражданскую больницу Палестины прилетела ракета, погибли до 1000 человек, весь мир взбудоражен. И я оказался н...
18/10/23 02:13 more...
author Андрей

Frolova, Vera
Written by свекровь, Фролова Л. Н.   
Пятница, 04 Январь 2008
Age 31, from Moscow, Russia.

Vera Viktorovna Frolova was born on May 20th, 1971. She was at the theater with her husband, Yevgeny Vladimirovich Frolov. They both perished, leaving behind their two young sons, Sasha and Misha.

About Zhenya and Vera Florov

Zhenya was born in 1968, on Monday, the 12th of August. He was my second son. I was a young mother – at age 23 I already had two sons. ‘Zhenka’ was a wanted, and well-loved child, in general he was like his older brother Andrey. The boys grew up suddenly and unexpectedly – crèche, kindergarten, and pioneer summer camp. They attended School #912 in the Volgograd Region, where among their favorite teachers was their history teacher Razzhab Muslimovich, and mathematics teacher Nina Maksimovna, as well as their sometimes too strict class director Nina Ivanovna.

School, lessons, discothèques, and his favorite sport of soccer, it all dashed past so fast, and then childhood was over. Once the schooldays were behind him, he did two years of military service in Azerbaijan.

He came home at the end of 1988, took a month off, and then went to work. He could not live off his parents at age 20! He worked at the USSR Bank as a computer operator while completing night school.

Time passed. Zhenya met Vera; they fell in love, and decided to marry. Unfortunately, at the time ‘Verochka’ (Vera) had been orphaned. She lived alone and worked at the government research institute. Her mother’s death left her very shaken, and as a result she suffered from depression. During this time Zhenya gave Vera support and helped the young girl cope with her first big blow in life. There were dates, attendance at theaters, parties with friends, and later the wedding. Vera turned into a loud and happy girl.

The young couple were happy, and it seemed that their happiness would be endless, but it only lasted 7 ½ years. But during this time they managed to leave their mark on this world.

Verochka and Zhenya succeeded in building a lovely home with a small but amazing garden where there were apple, cherry, and plum trees, and, of course, many different flowers: roses, lilies, dahlias, irises, phlox, zinnia, daisies, and so forth. But most of all, their most prized possessions were their two remarkable sons, Sasha and Misha.

Zhenya and Vera were good parents and loved their two mischievous boys very much. They tried to spend all their free time with the children. They went to the circus, the zoo, and to exhibitions and shows. They often went to Kuzminki Park – in the winter there was ice skating and sledding, while in the summer the family would go there to barbecue with friends. The children were always by their side, they went everywhere together. What marvelous creations Zhenya and Sasha would build out of Legos! Misha, however, could only watch – he was still very small. With their mother the boys made Christmas tree decorations, like we used to do back in the 1970s and 1980s.

Sasha, the oldest boy, had the habit of seeing a task to the end, and was very clean and orderly. They inherited from their parents a desire to help grandfather and grandmother with their housework and in the garden. There are many pictures in the family photo albums where one can see how much the children loved life with their mother and father.

Zhenya worked a lot, but he only worked so that neither the children nor their mother would feel any want, and worked to buy appliances for the house. Zhenya did not wish for Vera to be overwhelmed in household chores, which everyone knows are rarely noticed but rather difficult.

Youth, a huge amount of energy and great love her children and husband, all this gave Verochka the strength to keep the home in order, and her husband and children well-fed and neatly dressed.

On birthdays and other family holidays, many young guests would come to celebrate with Zhenya and Vera: Vera’s girlfriends with their husbands and children, Zhenya’s friends, and his older brother also with his family. There was always enough for everyone. Vera and Zhenya together would whip up a bunch of salads and other dishes, and for tea Vera always baked cookies, her specialty. A very happy and tasty time was to be had by all.

Their toils increased when they bought a plot of land in the country. They began to build a cottage, and to work the soil. In general it was work, work, work, and mostly just the two of them, but within two years they had fruit trees, and their garden was producing.

Vera loved to work in the earth, and prepared for winter with canned fruits and vegetables, jams and jellies. She put her heart into it and wished for everyone to enjoy her “supplies”, as she loved to call them. And how many mushrooms did they gather, dry, freeze, and marinate! Zhenya could scarcely manage to get it all back to their apartment in Moscow. Vera was a very kind person, and would share it all with relatives and friends.

Their nice, pretty house was finished in October of 2002, and they expected to spend the whole next summer with the children at the dacha, in peace and happiness.

But life decided otherwise.

On the evening of October 23rd I went to their apartment to babysit the grandchildren while Vera and Zhenya went to the show. Vera gave me her last instructions – what to feed the boys, what time to put them to bed. It was Wednesday, and Misha had to go to kindergarten the next day, while Sasha had to be up for school. Just as the boys had fallen asleep, my husband called and said: “Turn on the television…”

And so began days of uncertainty, of horror, of waiting, and, of course, hope. Hope that it would all end well, hope that an agreement could be reached between the terrorists and our government and the president. Hope that, in the end, all the hostages, tormented and emaciated by their three-day famine and the mockeries of terrorists, would return home alive and whole to their families, some to their parents, husbands, and wives, some to their children. But our dear Zhenya and Verochka were never to return to us.

My Zhenechka and Vera died the same day and at almost the same hour, just like in old fairytales where young couples swear eternal love to the grave. And thus it happened, only it was not a fairytale, but real life where death touches the young who are full of life’s strength, and plans for the future, “practically healthy” people. And it is horrible, it is unjust, it is uncivilized, it is impossible to believe, but this is how it is.

Sasha and Misha were suddenly orphaned and are never again to pronounce those words most dear to every person: Mama and Papa. My husband and I were deprived of a loving son, Andrey and Yulia lost a brother, and Zhenya’s many friends lost a true and loyal friend. My husband and I lost our happy and kind daughter, the loving mother of Sasha and Misha.

There is emptiness and desperation in our hearts. The grandchildren or so small… Oh, Lord, give us the strength, and, most of all the health, to raise them.

It has been five years since the tragedy. The pain of the loss of dear and loving children does not ebb; it has become a sharp splinter in our hearts and will torment and torture us the rest of our lives.

One hopes that these simple recollections about Zhenya and Vera will be read by their children and friends so that they could recall their smiles, laughter, voices, and their faces, which are now forever young.

Written by her mother-in-law, L. N. Frolova

Vera. Verochka. Verunka, how can I accept the fact that you and Yevgeny are no more?
Since birth we lived next door, in adjacent stairwells: you were in the third stairwell, and I was in the fourth, and together we would play hide and seek, cops and robbers, mother and daughter, hopscotch and jump rope. Then we went to school: you were in class 1-G, and I was in 1-A, but we shared recess. Then in the 4th grade, your class was split up and you joined mine, and we were together ever since. Wintertime we went skiing at Kuzminki in our ridiculous hats with earflaps. Summers you usually went to relatives in the Ukraine, while I went to summer camp, but we always waited impatiently after separation until we would meet again.
How we loved skating on the ‘box’ out in the yard! In the evenings, it was already dark and the only light was from a streetlight and the boys were done playing hockey and had left. Then we both would skate to music that we sang ourselves. We pretended to be figure skaters “working on our jumps,” and we would fall down and laugh at ourselves. And we loved to hold hands and skip along the snowy trails, singing: “It’s fun to walk together” and “The forest deer” and even some children’s songs. Who else was with us back then? It seems that it might have been Natasha Mitrofanova or Marina Kirpichenkova, and when we got a little older we would go to Veronika’s house for songs. Veronika would be on the piano (she was the only one who knew how to play), and we would sing! Remember what our favorite song was back then? “I will not be waiting for you on the beach, sorry, I can’t live like that anymore…” You were so happy that you laughed yourself to tears!
I remember our silly childhood fights, but what was it that we fought about? Who cares if it was a flock of crows or jackdaws that flew over our carefree heads? I do not know why, but I always made up with you first. Now I think that it was a sign that I needed to protect you… that there would be troubles… and you would have to suffer… so I could at least yield to you these little things and spare you…
What were we not into back then? We went to macramé and knitting circles, and dances. At the ball you were always the best, and everyone fought to get you in their arms. I was always surprised at your patience in knitting all those caps and socks and scarves, and how you always finished whatever you started. You stayed that way when you became a wife and mother. I remember the first time I came to see you and Yevgeny out at your weekend cottage, and how amazed I was at your flowerbeds and gardens! You grew so much produce, and then salted and pickled it all! What a home you and Yevgeny put together! Everything you did somehow went right and was a success: your home, your children, your husband — these were your sole cares, your loves, and the meaning of your life. You were a loving, and beloved, wife, a wonderful mother, and a wonderful hostess.
I always thought that it was as if your family was straight out of a fairy tale: “and they lived happily ever after, loving each other, and….” I never expected that the continuation of this phrase would happen so soon. You were so young, your kids were so small, and you were so happy! “…They died the same day.” This is terrifying, and irrevocable!
You were always quick to respond and ready to fly to the rescue, and people around you responded in kind. A lot happened in our lives and in our friendship. I remember your wedding day. My husband and I came early so that I could help you do your hair, but you were almost crying because you had died your hair and overdid it and it was like straw and you could not do anything with it. After our efforts, your hair suddenly turned pink, and this shade really went well with your complexion. You were a real bride! And your mood was great: nothing can spoil beauty!
August 2002, two months before the tragedy. My husband and son and I were visiting you at your weekend cottage. It was cool out, and you and I were sitting outside, wrapped in blankets. Suddenly you said that you wanted to get your boys baptized the next day. We could not stay: my husband had to be at work, but I said we could do it some other time, it was not as if this were the last time we would see each other.
But it was the last time. After that, we only talked to each other on the phone, and never got together until the cemetery. No longer would I see your smile, and no more would I hear your laughter or see that provocative and familiar twinkle in your eye, or feel the warmth of your presence.
My closest friend and her husband had died. All I had were the tears in my eyes and a ringing silence. Later I grew numb, and no longer felt what was happening as the grief and pain turned my heart to stone…
At the cemetery in Kuzminki, your portraits smile from the headstone. You are both “gone with the Nord-Ost,” and you and Yevgeny watch me whenever I come visit you. Everything now is divided into before October 26th, 2002, and after.
Well, my dears, time flies. Your children are growing up. Your grandparents are doing their best at raising and educating them, and they bestow them with their love and care. But they miss you, their mom and dad, so much! As do all of us, your loved ones who remain. How are you there? We remember you, and love you very much.
Written by Lena Malinovskaya

Views: 11303 | E-mail

  Comments (1)
1. я помню
Written by Елена Малиновская, on 02-02-2009 19:26
Я помню.
Проходит день за днем, месяц за месяцем, год за годом…, но боль не стихает… Да и не стихнет, пожалуй, никогда.
Нелепо. Абсурдно. Но реальность неумолима – мы потеряли их в этом аду.
Вера. Верочка. Верунька, как смириться с тем, что вас с Женей не стало?
С самого рождения мы жили с тобой рядом, в соседних подъездах – ты в третьем, я в четвертом, вместе играли в прятки, казаков-разбойников, дочки – матери, прыгали в классики, в резиночку. Потом – школа, ты в 1-м «Г», я в 1-м «А», но детская площадка – общая для всех классов. Потом ваш класс расформировали, и ты попадаешь к нам в 4-й «А». И с этого времени мы всегда вместе. Зимой на лыжах в Кузьминках, в таких нелепых шапках-ушанках, летом обычно разъезжались – ты на Украину к родне, я – в пионерлагерь, но всегда очень ждали, когда после расставания опять встретимся. А как любили кататься на коньках в «коробочке» во дворе дома! Уже вечер, темно, светят только фонари, мальчишки закончили играть в хоккей и ушли, а мы вдвоем катаемся под музыку, которую сами себе и напеваем, представляем себя фигуристками, «отрабатываем прыжки», падаем, сами над собой смеемся. А ещё любили, взявшись за руки, скакать по снежным тропинкам и петь «вместе весело шагать», «Лесной олень» и ещё какие-то детские песенки. Кто ещё тогда был с нами? Кажется, Наташа Митрофанова или Марина Кирпиченкова. А когда стали постарше, то собирались у Вероники и пели песни. Вероника играла на пианино (она одна умела играть) а мы пели! Помнишь нашу любимую тогда песню? «Я не буду ждать тебя на берегу, извини, я жить так больше не могу….». Какая ты была веселая, сколько тогда было смеха до слез! Помню и наши нелепые детские ссоры. И чего мы ругались? Ну какая разница — стая галок или ворон пролетела тогда над нашими такими беззаботными головами. Не знаю почему, но я всегда мирилась с тобой первая. Сейчас думаю, что это было знаком, что тебя надо оберегать… что будет беда… и тебе придется столько страдать… и хотя бы в этой мелочи надо уступать тебе, щадить тебя…А тогда чем мы только не увлекались. Ходили в кружки макраме, вязанья, танцев. Ты бала всегда умницей, и все у тебя в руках спорилось, а я удивлялась, как у тебя хватает терпения вязать все эти шапочки, носочки, шарфики, и все ты доводила до конца. И такой же ты осталась, когда стала женой и мамой. Помню, как приехала первый раз к вам с Женей на дачу и была поражена твоими цветниками и грядками! Сколько ты всего выращивала, а потом солила, мариновала! Как вы с Женей обустроили дом! Все у тебя как-то ладилось и удавалось. Твой дом, твои дети, твой муж – все это твоя забота, твоя любовь, твоя жизнь. А ты – любящая и любимая жена, замечательная мама, прекрасная хозяйка. Почему же вам с Женей пришлось пройти этот ужас? Почему? В пятницу, 25 октября, ты чувствовала, что может случиться непоправимое, поэтому дозвонилась Ларисе Николаевне и попросила беречь ваших мальчиков. Этот звонок был последним.
Боже, как же страшно было осознавать, что твои дети могут остаться сиротами…
Говорят, Что Господь забирает лучших, но как же больно, когда эти лучшие оказались твоими близкими.
Всегда думала, что ваша семья, это как из сказки «И жили они долго и счастливо, любили друг друга….», но не думала только, что продолжение этой фразы случится так рано – вы так молоды, ваши детки такие маленькие и вы такие счастливые!, и «умерли в один день» — страшно и непоправимо!!!
Ты всегда отзывчивая, готовая прилететь на помощь, и люди вокруг отвечали тебе тем же. Много всего было в нашей жизни, в нашей дружбе. Помню день вашей свадьбы. Мы с мужем приезжаем пораньше, чтобы помочь тебе сделать прическу, а ты чуть не плачешь – покрасилась и пережгла волосы, они как солома, не укладываются. После наших усилий цвет твоих волос неожиданно становится розовым, и этот оттенок тебе очень идет. Ты настоящая невеста! И настроение прекрасное – красоту ничем не испортишь!!!
Август 2002г, до трагедии два месяца. Мы с мужем и сыном у вас на даче. Прохладно, сидим с тобой укутавшись в пледы на улице. Потом ты говоришь, что очень хочешь, чтобы завтра же крестили твоих мальчиков. Но мы остаться не можем, мужу завтра на работу, все успеем, ведь не последний раз видимся. Но это был последний раз. Мы только созванивались, а встретились лишь на кладбище. И ты уже больше не улыбалась, а я уже не слышала твоего смеха, не видела таких задорных и знакомых огоньков в глазах, не не чувствовала теплоту твоего присутствия.
Моя самая близкая подруга и её муж погибли. И только слезы и звенящая тишина были вокруг, а потом оцепенение, когда уже не чувствуешь происходящего, когда каменеешь от горя и боли…..
Кладбище в Кузьминках, памятник, на котором вы, «унесенные Норд-Остом», улыбаетесь, и ваши глаза следят за мной, когда я иду к вам. А все события разделились на «до» и «после» 26 октября 2002г.
Вот, мои дорогие, время бежит, детки ваши растут, бабушка с дедушкой стараются изо всех сил, растят их, воспитывают, одаривают своей любовью и заботой. Но как же им не хватает вас, их мамы и папы! Да и всем нам, вашим близким, оставшимся здесь. Как вы там? Мы вас помним и очень любим.

Лена Малиновская

Write Comment
  • Please keep the topic of messages relevant to the subject of the article.
  • Personal verbal attacks will be deleted.
  • Please don't use comments to plug your web site. Such material will be removed.
  • Just ensure to *Refresh* your browser for a new security code to be displayed prior to clicking on the 'Send' button.
  • Keep in mind that the above process only applies if you simply entered the wrong security code.

Code:* Code
I wish to be contacted by email regarding additional comments

Powered by AkoComment Tweaked Special Edition v.1.4.6
AkoComment © Copyright 2004 by Arthur Konze — www.mamboportal.com
All right reserved

< Prev   Next >