Only the good die young...or do they?
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July 17th, 1918 - Gunshots are fired, screams are heard, and Russia's last Tsar crumples to the ground. Yakov Yurosky is confident his plan to destroy the Romanov family has succeeded. But what happens when ba...
The year carried on slowly but surely as the family grew out of mourning. But during the year, Alexandra grew gravely ill. It was feared she was on her deathbed.
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November 19th, 1925
The sickness had worsened and the family was called to say their goodbyes. The sisters had been summoned to Alexandra's room where they saw the woman sitting up in bed, her face aged with wrinkles, her dark hair in curls, and her blue eyes hazed.
"Hello, my dear girls." Alexandra held out her frail hand. Maria grabbed tightly onto it.
"Now girls, I'm not going to get better. I am so devasted that I won't be around to see this little one." Alexandra gestured to Maria's baby bump. Months back, Maria had announced her fourth pregnancy.
Maria and Anastasia looked at one another sadly. Alexandra squeezed Maria's hand, causing the girls to dart their attention back to her.
"Now that I'll be gone, I have left finances for you all that is now under the management of my comptroller in London. If you decide to stay here or move somewhere else, please use that money. It's my gift to you for making my last years filled with the pleasant joy of seeing your faces. I thought you had all been gone in that cellar. Now here you sit, saying goodbye to me."
Tears had welled up in Alexandra's eyes as she spoke.
"Please have the money. For the children."
"We will keep it for anything we need." Maria smiled, so touched by her offer.
"Thank you." Maria hugged her. "For taking us in. Hearing our calls. When...the family was alive, no one would help us seek asylum. Everyone declined our need for help. But everything changed when you helped us. Now my life is great. I couldn't ask for a more beautiful house to live in. I have a husband and two children. Things I didn't think I'd have seven years ago. Thank you for everything."
"Yes, thank you." Anastasia added.
"Thank you for being a sort of mother figure to us." Maria laughed through her tears.
"Auntie?" Anastasia started. "I have to admit on the first day we saw you again at the docks, I laughed at your face."
"Oh yes. I know." Alexandra chuckled. Anastasia's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yes, yes. I saw Maria scold you!"
"Are you mad?" Anastasia blushed.
"Oh of course not! You can't believe the looks I get."
Anastasia laughed. Although she had not been fond of Alexandra at first, she had grown to like her.
The sun started to set and Alexandra felt her time ticking to an end. "This was quite an extraordinary day. I had forgotten most of the memories from when you came to England years ago."
"I found a photo from our trip that I think you will love!" Anastasia said, running out of the room.
She soon returned with one of her father's old albums.
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(This is a real photo and I'm guessing this was taken between 1908-1910. And I'm pretty sure this was taken in Russia, not England.)
Oh yes! I remember that! We were all at lunch!" Maria exclaimed. "Papa took the photo just at the right time!"
" I remember as soon as you hit the ground, you laughed so hard and loud!" Alexandra recalled.
"Mama got so mad at me for getting dirt on my dress! She tried to dust it off. I think Papa said, 'A little dirt is fine for Nastya!'"Anastasia chortled.
Alexandra tilted her head back onto her pillow. The tears began to attacked her.
She didn't want to leave her nieces.
She didn't want to go.
"Please don't cry." Maria comforted her.
"Maria, you're an angel sent from god. Know that. Anastasia, you're an imp. A good, full-hearted, silly imp. Never change. Now please send for the children. I want to say goodbye."
The next morning, she was gone.
Alexandra, Queen Mother of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland; Empress consort of India, died on November 20th, nineteen-twenty-five, aged eighty.
Eight days later, the family had all gone to Windsor Castle to see her buried in St. George's Chapel. All of England mourned too. Citizens dressed in black, stood outside the church as the service went on. Grandmama, who had come from Denmark, wept the most. Her favorite sister was gone. It was the last loss she could bear.
"I think it is high time I meet my creator." Grandmama muttered as the car carrying the family left the castle.
The family tried everything to comfort her. Nothing helped. They sadly watched as she drove away in a car taking her to Plymouth docks. Grandmama had already lost so much. She had lost most of her family in the last fifty-five years.
The family retreated inside as the sky swirled with gray, so fitting for the mood of death.
