I lived with light

Fifteen years ago, Raisa Maksimovna Gorbacheva died

Fifteen years ago, Raisa Maksimovna Gorbacheva died

That happiness is hidden under the pseudonym.

Or that misfortune is just a special case of happiness. Or here's what: human happiness is not included in the plan of the universe at all, there is only negative happiness (as a lack of misfortune, at least relative, this is when the worst bypassed), and therefore the good, if we can transform our hysterical misfortune into ordinary misfortunes.

Or that happiness is achievable by training consciousness.

Or that happiness is possible only as a therapeutic goal.

Someone believes in happiness as in the ultimate goal.

Someone insists that every living should fatally be happy.

And the word itself comes from Icelandic Happ, which means luck or luck.

And they say that happiness or misfortune usually comes to the one who already has an excess.

Once upon a time, I asked everyone who interviewed, asked: "Are you a happy person?" She asked, squinting her eyes with horror, realizing that I was asking the most banal question in the world.

But having set him once and having received a non -banal answer, she could not stop.

One “difficult teenager”, with whom we talked for a long, long time, answered in a completely seriousness: “I am a half-hot.”

One absolutely happy (in my opinion) woman, who also turned ninety years old, said: “There are no happy people. But I have a happy character. ”

And one man, very famous, famous, successful, who had not just a triumph of conceited success, but deep and intelligible experience, and the family is wonderful, and children, and devoted friends; And I scolded myself at the same time: well, why I ask him, and so it is clear that I am happy, inevitably, of course, hopelessly; So, he looked at me carefully and asked: "How to find out?"

And really - to a to?

Probably just at the same.

In yourself or in others.

I saw together Raisu Maksimovna and Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev.

They were not one of those who climb out of leather not so much for the sake of gaining happiness, but in order to consider them all the lucky ones.

They did not portray anyone at all.

No cheap obsessive optimism.

Not the slightest insistence of their own significance.

No importance or gloomy.

Just free, noble, worthy, loving each other, happy people.

Something was very correct in the fact that perestroika began in the lover of the Fatherland a man in love with his wife.

Without a feeling of stiffness and unhappy.

And with a desire (effort) to a happy balance.

And in the hopelessness and meaninglessness of the Soviet stagnation, liberation took place: through love, in love!

And the country suddenly came to her senses.

And it turned out that intimacy is all that exists around us.

And getting rid of hatred is our internal disarmament.

And we are not an empire of evil, but simply people from just life.

And no need to be afraid and
CH and t and l and s with us.

Cheap all these are games!

There is only love - and this is the final and higher that justifies our local existence.

And only love can exalt us and strengthen us!

Raisa Maksimovna was very beautiful.

And there was lightness in her.

The lightness is that the highest measure of authenticity.

I remember that when we talked, we laughed a lot with her.

There was no enmity in it. To no one.

And there was no bitterness.

And there was a constant joyful readiness to celebrate (find) only good, remember only the good, speak only about the good, to hold on only for the good.

She saw black too.

But she believed in the "endless white."

The one that gives a ray of vision to go without finding his limit.

I do not know if she was a religious person.

But I know for sure: I lived in the gospel.

She lived with light, in the light.

Mikhail Sergeyevich has not forgotten her for these fifteen years.

His love for her became even stronger.

Thank you, Raisa Maksimovna, for being.

For loved.

Because you loved you.

For making Mikhail Sergeyevich forever happy.

For the fact that the years of perestroika were the happiest and most meaningful years of our lives.

And since all this was - it would not disappear.

Nobody has yet canceled the authenticity and strong feelings.

And he will not cancel.

Like the truth of words from a song with a song:

"Put me like a seal, on your heart ... For it is strong, like death, love."