My lovely family consists of only three members: my mom, my sister and me. It was bigger when my Dad was alive. He died from a heart attack when I was nearly five. Not realizing how tragic and irrevocable the event of his death was for my Mom and my elder sister, I could not utter even a tear. I was not being merciless or cruel toward my father, for I loved him very much and tried to spend as much time with him as I could.
After his busy working day at a plant he arrived home tense, a little nervous and upset, kissing my Mom on the cheek, hugging my sister and me. He rumpled my neatly combed, sparse hair making me angry because I liked to be tidy, and then disappeared behind the door of his study room, not saying a word. We all knew that we should not disturb or bother him at that moment and returned to our school tedious homework giving our fierce-looking father some time to come to his senses. My father was a leading engineer in one of the biggest airplane plants in Moscow. It was an extremely responsible and important job of which he was proud.
After spending some time with his drawings, estimates and calculations and making some calls to his colleagues, everything became quiet behind that giant oak door. Then, all of a sudden,