I do not know where, and we have the Trinity from the Soviet era was a major holiday when commemorated their ancestors. In the retracted advance cemetery gathered relatives who came that day from around the world. Today's celebration is no different from previous: rural cemetery, decorated with flowers, at a time filled with people and their voices.

I will not dig up the true motives that impel people to attend Trinity cemetery of their dead relatives, but it seems to me, have this tradition is not so much a religious principle, as an echo of social tragedy.

It so happened that the free celebration of the Trinity during the council coincided with the process of resettlement of peasants from small villages to the centers of state and collective farms. The so-called consolidation cut to the quick: on the orders of the party people plucked from their homes, forced to move to larger towns and villages. This crazy process finally finished off the traditional Belarusian village and destroyed the foundations that have contributed to the education of the peasant-owner. Relocated villagers into apartment buildings lost pledged childhood landmarks and values, alcoholism was a continuation of the entire population of this tragedy. Before the cemetery is almost never used alcohol. Then drink the Trinity became commonplace, almost a tradition.

So now the Trinity – is Open Day at the past that will never return, but that hurts, bake, I remember. Visiting the cemetery that day their parents, people like a return to his youth, when thousands of Belarusian villages lived a full life with its unique with its history and myths, which was destined to disappear. In today's quick-, vain, sometimes incomprehensible reality people do not have enough of those simple truths of the past, which, unfortunately, have become obsolete in today's circumstances.

Perhaps for this reason, after drinking in memory of deceased relatives glasses so many words and memories of that history when villagers united by a common communal life, when only thanks to one herd of cows can be understood that the village is alive and people are concerned about their future. But none of them could not foresee that in some thirty or forty years to combine them all into one will only is the village cemetery and the memories of the past.

S. Horki