room while the others quietly left.
Soon the mourners came. They kissed the family, then went into the bedroom and said prayers from the psalms of David, reciting those which started with the initials of Motlie’s name. Others brought in stools for the family to sit on, so they would remember how mortal they are, and that at this point of time for the one who died, there is only God. The single mirror of the house was draped with black cloth, and the family had changed to clothing of the same color.
The women of the village prepared a hot meal for the family, since that was also custom, then they all left except for the two volunteers standing watch in the death room. After eating, Jakob took Zelek upstairs to sleep with him, Hanna and Hershel moved the cot from the bedroom into the kitchen for Israel, then she stretched out in her own room. There was little sleep for her that night. The loss of her mother was finally sinking in. Her mind did not dwell on the many problems she must face, replacing Motlie. Instead, for hour after hour, she saw her mother’s smile, the way she walked, the sound of her voice, the motions of her hands as she gave the Sabbath prayer, the tender, loving care the children and she had gotten during the chicken pox and measles, and the various ailments that came to all families. She wondered how one, slight woman could find so much love for a household of people, for each of them felt that Motlie loved her or him the most.
Poor Papa, she thought, her teeth clenched to hold back the sobs that filled her throat. What will he do without Mama? Thank God there are young children for him to occupy himself with. She knew that when he came back from the cemetery, he would wipe away the tears and start taking over Mama’s duties. She knew that as surely as her own name. He will walk around with half a heart, but he will not give up. He will do what must be done while he is waiting to join her, and he will look forward to that day as eagerly as a child looks forward to a special gift. But when he goes, he will take the report that he did the job, that all the children were raised as Motlie would want them raised.
The funeral took place the following day. Four men of the village came with a stretcher and lifted Motlie’s body by the blanket enfolding her. The family, and a gathering of friends and relatives followed them as they carried her through the streets towards the small cemetery outside of town. George Wilson was there, his nose red from blowing it into a handkerchief, and Mrs. Merkys, and everyone they knew from Slabodka.
Stephen walked at the end of the procession with his sister, Larisa, amid half a dozen gentiles who had grown to admire the gentle, hard working woman.
The grave was already open, the earth piled high and raw, a yellow base atop the darker surface soil. Nearby were fresh gravestones mingled with the weathered markers of those gone years before. The sun and wind and snow had sucked off layer after layer until the words inscribed were difficult to read. A stone would be put up for Motlie on the anniversary of her death, at the conclusion of the fourth period of mourning.
Rabbi Warnitski said a prayer, then signaled for the interment to begin. One of the men dropped down into the grave, placed a cement block at each end of the hole, then helped the others lower Motlie between them by the blanket enfolding her. Once she was in position, a wide board was placed on top of the two blocks to cover her. This was the moment of the most profound grief as the family performed the keri’ah. The rabbi made a small cut in their clothing, on the left side for Hanna and the children, and on the right for Israel, and they tore it open to a hand’s-breadth, cries of anguish bursting from their lips.
Blinded by tears, they were led to the grave and poured on the first shovels of earth, and then stood back broken-hearted as relatives and friends filled the hole and shaped the mound. Rabbi Warnitski led them in reciting the kaddish, the prayer for the dead, and then the gathering formed two rows for the family to pass out of the cemetery. Outside, a basin of water and towels were waiting for all to wash their hands. The mourners returned home, where avelut, the period of mourning, began.
The women of the village had brought baskets of food, for it was forbidden that family members eat their own at the first meal after the funeral. The baskets had to be of wicker instead of the more ostentatious types in deference to the poor.
The funeral ended the first period of mourning, that of weeping. Now came shiv’ah, seven days of lamenting, sitting on stools, receiving consolation from friends. It was a mitzvah for others to visit, for now was the time to take the minds of the family off the one they had lost.
It was on the second day of shiv’ah that Stephen stopped by Hanna’s house to express his sympathies more fully. She led him out to the bench in the yard, and they sat down. Her face was pale, and her mood subdued.
“Are you well, my dearest?” he asked quietly.
She smiled wanly. “I will be all right soon. It is just that the house seems so empty. But everyone has been trying hard to make things easier for everyone else.”
“How is your father?”
A line of concern crossed her forehead. “I can’t tell yet, Stephen. On the surface, he appears to be bearing up well, and he discusses things that he would not bother with a month ago. But every now and then, in the midst of a sentence sometimes, he just…well, fades away. As if the world he was in a moment ago was full of play acting and he has suddenly gone back to his real world.” She shook her head sadly. “He is thinking of Mama. But each time he drifts away, he seems to come back with a piece of himself missing. I try not to show it, but it worries me.”
“It will take time.”
“I know.”
He kicked at a turf of grass, his eyes fixed to the ground. “Is there any news about…you know, your period?”
She shook her head again and looked away, and it occurred to her that she had been shaking her head all day and not facing up squarely to the situation. She would have to stop that at once.
“Hanna,” said Stephen softly. “Please don’t turn your head away from me.”
She looked at him, and he was so obviously sad for her that she was tempted to kiss him directly on the spot. “All right. I am sorry.”
“We must always talk things out. I don’t have a crush on you, like a schoolboy. I love you with all my heart, and I will never love another woman. To me, you are already my wife. I want you to know that and to lean on me. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Of course I do, my dear. And I could never love you more than this very minute.”
His shy grin returned. “That makes me feel better. When will your mourning be over?”
“Shiv’ah ends in five days. Then we will have sheloshim for about three weeks. We will say kaddish for eleven months.”
Stephen opened his mouth in astonishment. “I cannot kiss you until then?”
Hanna finally smiled. “Certainly you can. As far as you and I are concerned, we can be together again after shiv’ah. I will also be starting back to work after then.”
Stephen got up and held out his hand. She rose and placed hers in his. It felt so comforting just to touch him. “I’ll be off now,” he said. “I have work to do at the house. But don’t forget–call on me whenever you need anything.”
He started down the street, his mind full of love and longing for her. But there was a deep apprehension inside, for he had still not found a solution for the two of them. He walked slowly towards his large house on the knoll with a clear view of the river. He had no one
