До свидания = good bye (Russian)

"Stay away," her voice was low, like the growl of a tiger ready to attack its prey. "Mama, it's Tatya and Nastya." Tatiana said slowly, carefully approaching the bed, where Mama knelt beside. "I said stay away." Mama's tone was the same.

I wasn't ready to approach the bed just yet. The least Mama did was lay a sheet over Papa's face, for she knew she couldn't bear to see his cold face. She turned on her knees as we came to her, and she collapsed into Tatiana's arms. Instantly, we heard a shriek in the hall. Mashka was here. She burst in the room and sank to the floor where us three already were. We sobbed in heap together as the staff anxiously waited in the hall to attend to the body.

It was the new dowager empress, the new tsarina, and the last daughters left in Russia. We are all Mama has left. I don't know how long we were there for, but I felt Tatiana stand.

"Come," she extended a hand. "We must face this now. We will pull through and say our goodbyes." Mashka and I dragged ourselves to our feet, and we all helped Mama up, who grasped the bed for support. Mama's eyes didn't leave Papa's body.

A blur came of doctors ensuring the pulse stopped. Mama sat silently, clutching Tatiana's hand. At three- forty in the morning, our father was pronounced dead. The doctors know he had technically died at about two- twenty, but they couldn't formally announce it for the death certificate until the body was medically examined.

Similarly to Alexei's death, we sat in silence for hours, until at six, Olga burst in.

The stirring of Sergei tore me from my flashback. Thirty minutes passed since I sat down with him to read a story, and afterward I was sucked back into the memory. I carefully shifted to scoop him in my arms and carry him to his cot. As soon as I set him down, his big eyes flashed open and he grabbed my pocket watch locket.

"I don't want to sleep." he said wearily. He always played with my locket, since he was an infant.

"I think you'll think otherwise." I replied gently as his eyes fluttered closed. I kissed his forehead and departed from his bedroom. I went to my private apartments to skim my journals from Papa's parting...

She looked in horror as doctors surrounded Papa's bed, her mother and sisters huddled in the corner. She stared at us. "He- I. He's gone." she gaped. Tatiana nodded and waved her over, but instead Olga went to the bed, pushing past the doctors. They didn't stop her.

She removed the sheet from his face, her face as white as his. She grasped his hand, and bowed her head on the bed, weeping. "Good bye, Papa, goodbye. Why must you leave us so soon?" She murmured. Her head suddenly snapped up, and she turned to us, her composure suddenly resurrected. "Why," her voice shook. "Why was I the last to know?" her dainty hands clenched into fists. "Would you have told the newspapers before me, your eldest daughter?"

Tatiana tried to explain, but it was no use. "Just because you spite me, Mother, doesn't mean you can hide the death of my father, the man who supported me through everything. How dare you?" She exclaimed.

"I am not at fault. Watch your tongue, Olga Nikolaevna." Mama replied shortly, her eyes fixated on the bed. "What's the reason? When did he die? Why are Tatya and Nastya already here?" she demanded. She abruptly turned to Dr. Botkin. "My own family won't give me answers. When did my father die?" she screamed. He looked calm, but uncomfortable. He looked at Mama, whose eyes were in another world. Tatiana said, "Two- twenty." her eyes cast downwards. Olga turned from the doctor. "And in the past four hours, you couldn't find time to tell me?" she said sadly, no longer angry. She was drained. I suddenly bolted up, startling the silent Mashka. I wrapped my arms around Olga as she sobbed, and I guided her away from the bed.

So began mourning.

As they laid his casket into the tomb at the Peter and Paul Fortress, Mama turned to us, her daughters. "You are all I have left." her soul left her voice, gone with Papa's.