“I was little, but I remember my mother,” a little beauty Barbara tells us and brings us a portrait of her mother, holding it to her heart. - Isn't she beautiful? Do I look like her? I remember how she was lying, and I stroked her hand, and she was happy. And now she is in heaven. And I draw hearts for her and write "love you, mommy." My grandmother and I go to her grave, and make everything beautiful there... We even decorate a Christmas tree for her for the New Year."