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...
(A digitally colored photo of Maria (right) and Anastasia (left) in 1914)
Decades passed.
Children grew up, couples married, people died.
The Golovins were gone. Catia, Mikhail, Leonid, and Sinvonia were off living their lives. Milana and Egor were dead. So was Dasia. She died knowing that her nephew was happy. That was all she had wanted for him.
Olga and Xenia were gone too. Vasili and Tikhon were off in America, living with wives and children. All of Maria's children were married.
The family never left Sandringham. They called it their paradise, just as the Livadia Palace was for Maria and Anastasia's parents.
Even though Maria had wanted to be an Aunt for her sister's children, Anastasia never had kids.
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It was nineteen-eighty-six.
The Romanov sisters still lived at Sandringham. Life was quiet. Family members rarely came to visit. Over the last few weeks of March, Maria had become sick. The sisters were old, both in their eighties. Doctors stated that they needed to prepare for the worst.
Late one night, Anastasia stepped into Maria's room to see her sister lying in bed. Her skin was wrinkled and covered with spots. Her long hair was white as well as Anastasia's. It was only her icy blue eyes that didn't age.
Anastasia gripped Maria's hand tightly. Maria's eyes fluttered open and she looked at Anastasia. She squeezed her sister's hand in return.
"I'm not afraid to die, Shvibzik." Maria stated, between shaky breaths.
"God will take good care of me in heaven. I will see our family once again."
Anastasia didn't say a word but Maria knew she was listening.
"Nastasia, I love you. There wasn't a moment in my life where I didn't. Do you hear me?"
Anastasia nodded. There were tears in her eyes and they slid down her wrinkled face. Her hand was still tightly locked with her sister's.
Maria spoke what would be her last words.
"I believe there is another world waiting for us. A better world. I'll be waiting for you there."
Maria's eyes closed.
She peacefully died.
Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna of Russia died on March twenty-fourth nineteen-eighty-six at age eighty-seven.
It wasn't just the house that mourned, the whole world mourned. They had lost a kind and gentle soul. The television broadcasted the news all over the world.
Far away in Paris, an old man named Valentin Golovin shed a tear.
In the years following, Marcell and Andrei went along with Maria.
Anastasia was the only one left.
The nineties arrived. Russia's very last grand duchess was ninety-one. Anastasia was slowly walking into the saloon one morning when an important news broadcast played on the television. The broadcaster announced-
"Archaeologists have found the remains of the last royal family in Ekaterinburg, Russia."
Anastasia froze in shock as the news played on.
Tears of joy attacked her.
The old woman found herself laughing uncontrollably.
The wish she had made seventy-two years ago on her eighteenth birthday had come true.
Her family had been found.
♥
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