Former Minister of Labor and Social Policy Denitsa Sacheva told a human and very personal story:
It’s been a long time since I’ve written something personal on the web. Right or wrong, I decided it was for the best. I also don’t take photos from my salons as a representative of people, because I feel uncomfortable using the faces of people who have entrusted me with their problems to show unknown people that I am doing my job. However, something happened to me today that made me write. She immediately grabbed my hand and typed on the keyboard herself.
A man came: modest, small, thin, white-haired, 80 years old. He got married in 1963. Two children followed. It turned out that his wife suffered from severe mental illness. He accepted her fate and took care of her family. When the children grew up and finished school, they developed the same disease as their mother. Despite the extreme difficulties, the man took care of all three. Eventually, however, they had to be placed in institutions. The son went to one, the mother and daughter to the other. I spent 18 years traveling between institutions to see them. His wife died. And he too has reached a serious age. He asked me to help his children live together in a center so that he could leave this world peacefully, knowing that he has brought them together and that they are not alone. Meanwhile, his son has even gotten worse and is in psychiatry. Across Bulgaria towards Dobrich. Unfortunately, the consultations I have done have shown that their diagnoses are so severe that this is next to impossible. I didn’t know how to tell him. My voice was gone. And I stared at him, studying every detail of his face. The man spoke softly, calmly, deeply. His voice trembled slightly. Tears flowed from his eyes, but they never came, for the pain inside him held them like ropes of steel.
I offered him help to visit his son. He had to change three buses to get there. I asked him if it would last if he wanted to. He smiled and said, “I want day and night.” I was tempted to ask what kept him going. “I’m a believer,” he said, surprised that I was asking. “It never occurred to me to leave my wife and children. My only regret is that we were not told in time of his diagnosis. We could have adopted a child if we had known.”
He left and we decided to talk to him so he could tell me about the meeting with his son. I saw him walk away and thought about unconditional love and faith. He thought I was helping him because I was paying for his son’s way. And he actually helped me because he showed me the way.
(From Facebook)
