I saw Matushka Anastasia and Deacon Grigory’s son, John, sitting on a small couch. She had obviously been crying, and John was comforting her.“Goo... afternoon, Matushka Anastasia,” I said. “Hi, John. Is there any word?”“No,” John replied. “They’re working on him.”“May I ask what happened?”“A heart attack, I think. The paramedics had to use their defibrillator on him.”“Is there anything you need?” I asked.“Just prayers for now, Subdeacon.”I nodded, then Clarissa and I sat down in chairs close to. He was more than generous and paid up front with no questions asked. He even joked that he wanted just one last kick at the can before he was too old to appreciate it. Finally, he was undressed and joined her on the bed.His skin was the colour of ash and sagged in a very unflattering way. In places, he looked boney, in other areas he bulged and in still others; his skin was taut and thin. His hair was silver white, and his trembling vein carved hand reached towards her.Cindy laid back after. More

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