On the seventh day after my grandfather died, I touched his relic for the first time - a copper coin.
As soon as my fingertips were pressed together, white light exploded into my skull. I saw him reciting seven names in the last ten minutes before he died, and then breathed out after he read the fifth one.
I work as a relic organizer. There are three rules in this business, and the third one is the most cruel - the memory you see is not evidence, speak it out, and you will lose your life.
But every old thing I touched made me speechless: the nail marks from the balcony, my daughter-in-law's fingerprints on the bottom of the sleeping pill bottle, the slippers whose soles were worn out for ten years...
I can't say, I can only let the evidence speak for itself. A watch strap worn backwards, a missing ring, and a pair of slippers spelled out the hands behind three "natural deaths."
Until I saw it on page 37 of the funeral home register - the people with seven names were all "called" alive to sign and then die.
And the doctor who signed the death certificate...
He died three months earlier than his grandfather.
