Vera Viktorovna Frolova was born on May 20^th, 1971. She was at the theater with her husband, Yevgeny Vladimirovich Frolov. They both perished, leaving behind their two young sons, Sasha and Misha.

About Zhenya and Vera Florov

Zhenya was born in 1968, on Monday, the 12^th of August. He was my second son. I was a young mother – at age 23 I already had two sons. ‘Zhenka’ was a wanted, and well-loved child, in general he was like his older brother Andrey. The boys grew up suddenly and unexpectedly – crèche, kindergarten, and pioneer summer camp. They attended School #912 in the Volgograd Region, where among their favorite teachers was their history teacher Razzhab Muslimovich, and mathematics teacher Nina Maksimovna, as well as their sometimes too strict class director Nina Ivanovna.

School, lessons, discothèques, and his favorite sport of soccer, it all dashed past so fast, and then childhood was over. Once the schooldays were behind him, he did two years of military service in Azerbaijan.

He came home at the end of 1988, took a month off, and then went to work. He could not live off his parents at age 20! He worked at the USSR Bank as a computer operator while completing night school.

Time passed. Zhenya met Vera; they fell in love, and decided to marry. Unfortunately, at the time ‘Verochka’ (Vera) had been orphaned. She lived alone and worked at the government research institute. Her mother’s death left her very shaken, and as a result she suffered from depression. During this time Zhenya gave Vera support and helped the young girl cope with her first big blow in life. There were dates, attendance at theaters, parties with friends, and later the wedding. Vera turned into a loud and happy girl.

The young couple were happy, and it seemed that their happiness would be endless, but it only lasted 7 ½ years. But during this time they managed to leave their mark on this world.

Verochka and Zhenya succeeded in building a lovely home with a small but amazing garden where there were apple, cherry, and plum trees, and, of course, many different flowers: roses, lilies, dahlias, irises, phlox, zinnia, daisies, and so forth. But most of all, their most prized possessions were their two remarkable sons, Sasha and Misha.

Zhenya and Vera were good parents and loved their two mischievous boys very much. They tried to spend all their free time with the children. They went to the circus, the zoo, and to exhibitions and shows. They often went to Kuzminki Park – in the winter there was ice skating and sledding, while in the summer the family would go there to barbecue with friends. The children were always by their side, they went everywhere together. What marvelous creations Zhenya and Sasha would build out of Legos! Misha, however, could only watch – he was still very small. With their mother the boys made Christmas tree decorations, like we used to do back in the 1970s and 1980s.

Sasha, the oldest boy, had the habit of seeing a task to the end, and was very clean and orderly. They inherited from their parents a desire to help grandfather and grandmother with their housework and in the garden. There are many pictures in the family photo albums where one can see how much the children loved life with their mother and father.

Zhenya worked a lot, but he only worked so that neither the children nor their mother would feel any want, and worked to buy appliances for the house. Zhenya did not wish for Vera to be overwhelmed in household chores, which everyone knows are rarely noticed but rather difficult.

Youth, a huge amount of energy and great love her children and husband, all this gave Verochka the strength to keep the home in order, and her husband and children well-fed and neatly dressed.

On birthdays and other family holidays, many young guests would come to celebrate with Zhenya and Vera: Vera’s girlfriends with their husbands and children, Zhenya’s friends, and his older brother also with his family. There was always enough for everyone. Vera and Zhenya together would whip up a bunch of salads and other dishes, and for tea Vera always baked cookies, her specialty. A very happy and tasty time was to be had by all.

Their toils increased when they bought a plot of land in the country. They began to build a cottage, and to work the soil. In general it was work, work, work, and mostly just the two of them, but within two years they had fruit trees, and their garden was producing.

Vera loved to work in the earth, and prepared for winter with canned fruits and vegetables, jams and jellies. She put her heart into it and wished for everyone to enjoy her “supplies”, as she loved to call them. And how many mushrooms did they gather, dry, freeze, and marinate! Zhenya could scarcely manage to get it all back to their apartment in Moscow. Vera was a very kind person, and would share it all with relatives and friends.

Their nice, pretty house was finished in October of 2002, and they expected to spend the whole next summer with the children at the dacha, in peace and happiness.

But life decided otherwise.

On the evening of October 23^rd I went to their apartment to babysit the grandchildren while Vera and Zhenya went to the show. Vera gave me her last instructions – what to feed the boys, what time to put them to bed. It was Wednesday, and Misha had to go to kindergarten the next day, while Sasha had to be up for school. Just as the boys had fallen asleep, my husband called and said: “Turn on the television…”

And so began days of uncertainty, of horror, of waiting, and, of course, hope. Hope that it would all end well, hope that an agreement could be reached between the terrorists and our government and the president. Hope that, in the end, all the hostages, tormented and emaciated by their three-day famine and the mockeries of terrorists, would return home alive and whole to their families, some to their parents, husbands, and wives, some to their children. But our dear Zhenya and Verochka were never to return to us.

My Zhenechka and Vera died the same day and at almost the same hour, just like in old fairytales where young couples swear eternal love to the grave. And thus it happened, only it was not a fairytale, but real life where death touches the young who are full of life’s strength, and plans for the future, “practically healthy” people. And it is horrible, it is unjust, it is uncivilized, it is impossible to believe, but this is how it is.

Sasha and Misha were suddenly orphaned and are never again to pronounce those words most dear to every person: Mama and Papa. My husband and I were deprived of a loving son, Andrey and Yulia lost a brother, and Zhenya’s many friends lost a true and loyal friend. My husband and I lost our happy and kind daughter, the loving mother of Sasha and Misha.

There is emptiness and desperation in our hearts. The grandchildren or so small… Oh, Lord, give us the strength, and, most of all the health, to raise them.

It has been five years since the tragedy. The pain of the loss of dear and loving children does not ebb; it has become a sharp splinter in our hearts and will torment and torture us the rest of our lives.

One hopes that these simple recollections about Zhenya and Vera will be read by their children and friends so that they could recall their smiles, laughter, voices, and their faces, which are now forever young.

Written by her mother-in-law, L. N. Frolova

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