The familiar eyes

Time is passing and I still can't find the strength to write what I promised my husband. The deceased's wish must be fulfilled, but I have a desire to leave everything in the past. I want to erase from my life all the strange events and facts that contradict common sense.
With whom am I arguing so vehemently within myself? And why does this someone inside me show me what is going to happen to someone else, what is really happening somewhere in the world, what is the mistake of scientists-researchers on a particular issue and who gives specific advice in everyday matters of life? Why do streets, houses, people, architecturally unusual buildings and simple corners of a garden with an intricate cast-iron gate suddenly appear before my inner gaze?
I lie at home in silence and suddenly see a frozen kitten at a bus stop. I called out loudly so that it would be noticed. The little girl turned around at my invisible voice, found no one, but noticed the shivering lump. My silent plea spread to her mother and her daughter's pitying eyes completed the act of saving the kitten.
I love those images that appear early in the morning. They give me hope that my life at least helps people in some way, or simply gives me beautiful moments of fullness of life, gives me the sound of the waves, the breath of the forest, the prospect of building a new world.
But in this material world, the workday comes into its own, and the hard everyday life allows you to distract yourself only for a short time, and only for real words in social networks or in telephone messengers.   And when a life companion suddenly leaves life, one wants to find a phantom substitute for communication on any terms that do not violate the boundaries of one's own small world.
I went away from myself to the supermarkets to watch children playing in the playgrounds while their mothers and fathers were shopping. I watched inconspicuously how capriciously women chose outfits, not realizing that the most precious things are in the soul, not on the body, not realizing that you can lose the most precious things in an instant and then nothing will fill the emptiness inside.
I know that many people, like me, see a recently departed loved one in a crowd of passers-by and do not immediately realize that he is no longer in this world, he cannot just walk up or pass by. But the familiar image haunts them for a long time.  It is necessary to make a barrier between our worlds from the image of another, living person. That's how I came across a similar image of a man I didn't know on Twitter.
Within a week, that man had multiplied to several dozen. On the one hand it's funny to keep a count of these doubles, but on the other hand I want to know for what merits he is being duplicated.
Another country, other interests, other values, but none of this is part of my life. It's just a way to distract myself, a chance to see the ways of those who could not achieve anything in life. An actor plays the role of some people in a script. People play the part of that actor. Everyone is happy, everyone gets money, fans and fame. I also unwittingly fell into this interactive game, but I quickly realized that it would be difficult to wash off the feeling of lust and the deception of fake characters afterwards.
This actor seemed surprisingly familiar. At first it was a resemblance to my husband. In interviews I saw the resemblance - modesty and boyishness, kindness and purity of heart - how similar everything is! Eyes, actions, manners, but a living man, not a ghost. I studied this man, compared him with the heroes of his films, with the characters of fictional stories.     And the question always came up - how does this simple guy keep a pure heart in this endless show?
It was a coincidence that he was born in Echuca, near Melbourne, where my favorite mini-series, All Rivers Run, was filmed. As a child he ran, rode bikes, surfed and loved to sit around campfires with friends. 
To carry all the purity of my heart through the acting environment I grew up in as a kid... It's really not easy.
Maybe the dream of his farm in his beloved Australia, where he spent his best years among his friends, helped him. But there are plenty of Australian actors in Hollywood, and no matter how good they are professionally, they can't compare to this smiling guy.

 What's behind that smile?
Pure of heart and - show.... A pure heart with a dream of a female friend, but surrounded by female hunters after his fame... Something doesn't fit.
And yet in my life there appeared a guiding star, which can be observed quite calmly, without attracting attention, without wasting my emotions on meaningless dreams. Just a star with its pure light, which lives in another world, but among living people in the distant land of Oz. I had the strength to overcome all the troubles of my life for almost a year, until ....


My friends sent me a greeting on the Day of Faith, Hope and Love. I sat at my panoramic window and thought how to reply if I am not religious. How to tactfully support the faithful? Outside my window it was late September, early fall, and suddenly everything turned green and a clearing appeared in front of me, a river on the right, across the bridge a dense forest with a barely visible road through the trees.
I looked around and saw to my left, a few meters away, the small wooden house from which I had recently emerged into this clearing. In the distance were several other houses, almost hidden at the edge of the dense coniferous forest. They were covered with spruce branches, somewhere with bark, blown by the cold Scandinavian winds. People were busy, children were talking. Women were saying goodbye to their husbands who were leaving for battle. It was dark, damp, and I stood barefoot on the cold grass, feeling my long hair on my shoulders. I shivered and wrapped myself in my cloak. But it was more like a nervous shiver.
My husband came from our home. We were both young, strong leaders in the settlement. It was obvious from the distance and the glances we received. I could still feel my beloved's gentle and strong hands on me, my lips were still burning from the goodbye kisses and my words that I did not want to live without him. I stepped out into the cold clearing to cool down a bit and accept the inevitability of defeat in this battle.
Still half turned, I saw my husband coming out from under the canopy of our house. He fastened his leather belt and walked toward me with determination.
We were bound by so many trials, the difficult transition to this wilderness, the care of our tribesmen, the building of our homes. We had just found our happiness alone, and suddenly we learned that our shelter had been discovered by those from whom we had been hiding all these years. Everyone was in danger - the women, the children, the few old men who had made it to this forested land. I knew my husband was willing to die to protect everyone, but I didn't understand why I couldn't go out and fight like I used to.
My favorite was the most handsome one to me, with long blond hair partially tied back in a small bundle, piercing blue eyes, and strong hands in leather cuffs. On his chest over his shirt was a plate of thick leather. The men had no shields, only the calves of their legs protected by thick leather laced with laces, their arms up to the elbow by leather cuffs, and their shoulders under a fur cape. He hugged me gently and my heart fluttered in my chest. He stared into my eyes and held me even tighter than before. The pain of parting, the resentment, receded. We said goodbye in silence, eye-to-eye.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through me, and I barely had time to cry out in pain before I felt my favorite hands gently lowering me onto the cold grass. Everything in front of my eyes began to blur, to dissolve, and only his eyes looked at me, through me, for a long time.
I was suddenly on top of him, looking down at my body, a red stain on my chest. The villagers screamed and rushed toward us, but when they saw their leader's stern, painful gaze, they retreated.   Orm cut off a piece of my blood-stained dress, tucked it behind my leather breastplate closer to my heart, turned resolutely away, and walked toward the road that led through the forest to the sea.
He walked alone, paying no attention to the others, knowing that all would come to the place to fight. We dismantled our ships and used them to build our huts. We left no trace on the shore, only small boats on the river to help us fish from the cold sea. Who told of our shelter? Orm thought about it, thought about many other things, remembered my voice, which he compared to the sound of pebbles on the shore being picked up by the waves, made tactical plans, and I heard it all in him. I was near him, I was around him, I was in him. I was with him wholeheartedly for the rest of his short life. I still have the feeling that this life is over, that I've been at his side all my life. The vow of eternal love has bound my soul in this life.
I came back to the reality of a September day. The quiet dogs were lying beside me. I breathed the already dry air of our steppe lands, heard the noise of cars and the rustling of leaves. My chest ached as from a deep wound. It took me a long time to come to my senses after this penetration into the past.
I don't know who showed me this event, no movie can compare to the reality of this vision. Frostbite on my skin, smells, sounds that are completely unknown to me in this life. Boundless love, devotion and the erased boundary of all worlds - this one, that one and the Beyond. Did I get there by accident?
To distract myself from this vision, I went to YouTube. There was him, there were his eyes, there was that connection that goes on into infinity, there was a man who was kin to every cell of his body. Orm didn't look like a movie Viking, except that his eyes seemed to look back at me from there, creating an invisible thread that went through centuries, through destinies. It was impossible to confuse that gaze from the depths of his soul with any other.
He himself did not understand why he suddenly decided to record for a movie audition for the role of a Viking right at the kitchen table at a friend's house. On the main role could not find a suitable actor and suddenly right on point, without options and trials, it was him. Because he is with horses since childhood, is not afraid of work and difficulties. In my head persistently sounded my name - Rogneda, which means - counselor of warriors.
But he's very far away now. Fortunately, far away, otherwise the desire to touch him, just to be near him, could have turned into a disaster. But it could also give answers to many questions, if he had remembered me. Perhaps such a story is described somewhere in Scandinavian books, but I haven't read it. I know from somewhere that my case is not the first, but it's rare that someone goes to such an act.
From historical references I learned how Viking houses looked like and it coincided with what I saw and knew then myself. I learned that women then and there were on an equal footing with men and had power.
So, it turns out I asked him to kill me because I couldn't live without him. He talked me out of it, but he also wondered how it would be. When I waited for him outside his house, I was in a mood not of farewell, but rather of reproach that he was leaving and not taking me with him. I could fight, but not on this trip. This time there was a sense of the fatality of battle.
The day before, I had asked him to take me with him in any form. And he had decided to take me that way, to save me from the cruel revenge for the riot that had resulted in us having to flee and lead others. What had we done that we had been sought and pursued for years? My and his sense of justice was absolute then, we were not inherently capable of meanness. Only pregnant women were taken to Valhalla according to the faith, so I had to be my husband's guardian angel, to be near him with my soul. Why did he take me with him? 
Whatever the delusions, we are both participants in my death. I gladly accepted it from him.
I guess we were scattered across continents and time so we wouldn't do anything stupid again because of beliefs or....


Letting go and forgetting didn't work. Fending off problems partially worked, but only for a while.
And here this actor is a great man. And here he does not trade on petty love, he has been waiting all his life, looking for that very woman friend. He gives his fans smiles, hugs from the bottom of his heart all those who want to touch his glory ... and he's lonely. Remains lonely because the size of his soul will not withstand any of the seekers of fame, money and the desire to be involved in his talent.
And his famous role of the Viking king turned out because of the deep memory of his soul about that distant past.

And I am the same in this life - faithful and loyal, not tolerating injustice and leading others. Only my hair is already gray.
But how I wanted to tell him that I was there for him, I was always there for him! Even when I didn't remember that life, I felt that somewhere there was a man who felt like me, who wouldn't betray, wouldn't deceive, wouldn't slam his heart shut. What kind of program provided this distance between us?
He does his work in his own way, the hearts of many people on earth are drawn to him, he is at the top of Olympus. I have a different task for people, and I have to fulfill it by barn-locking the memory of him in my heart.
But questions about that time, place, events, facts are knocking at my mind.
Questions, questions and no answers.

It's been three years. He found me...