VOSHN 311

<body><a href="../index.html">HOME</a><br><table summary="289"><tr><td class="etesti">289</td><td class="edate">On August 16<sup>th</sup>, 1945.</td><td class="eage">He burnt our baby.</td></tr><tr><td class="ei_midasi" colspan=3>23 years old at that time</td></tr></table><div class="large"><p>On 16th, our four months old baby died in the air-raid shelter.  My husband picked up a fruit box and we put our baby's body in it.  We recited a sutra together for him so that he can sleep peacefully.</p><br><p>After that my husband tried to get out of the shelter with the box, saying, "Now I'm going to burn him."  Our baby had died just a few hours before.  I heard myself saying, "Wait!  Please hold on for a second!!"  I stood up to keep my husband from leaving.  Though I had been wounded then, I noticed that I could walk by myself.  I just presumed that I couldn't walk.</p><br><p>After a while my husband came back to me.  He had still hot burns of our baby on his hands.  He said, "I burnt him."  I asked him back, "You did?  Our baby turned into these small bones?"</p></div></body>