Tag #116099 - Interview #91352 (Chasia Spanerflig)

September 1967 was really warm. On Sunday the 10th, we agreed to go to the beach with our friends. Mikhail kept saying that his leg was hurting, but being naturally healthy he didn’t want to see a doctor. Early in the morning my husband went to get the paper and when he came back he said that it was difficult for him to breathe. I was even angry with him, as I wanted to sleep a little bit. He lay down and asked me to call a doctor. I called the ambulance and ran to my neighbor, a military doctor. I also called our friend, a medicine professor. The ambulance came and the doctors gave him some injections and left. Mikhail fell asleep. When the professor examined him, he took me to the drawing-room and said: ‘Chasia, Misha is dead!’ He started explaining to me something about thrombus and thrombosis of the pulmonary artery. I didn’t understand how people could die like that. I started hugging him and kissing his open and alive-looking eyes. I couldn’t believe that he was dead – death couldn’t be like that – it couldn’t and had no right to interfere in and ruin my life. I don’t remember how I spent the first days after his death. The Brantsovskiys were constantly by me, and Mikhail Brantovskiy stayed with me at nights. Mikhail was buried with honors, at a military cemetery.