No Time for Tears Read Free Page A

Stroking the girl’s lovely hair, she finally said, “It’s life, Chavala. We must learn to accept that we are all only mortal. The years of our lives are arranged and we must understand that…”
    Chavala found little comfort in such well-intentioned words. Jews for centuries had accepted their fates with passive resignation. Not Chavala. Who devised such a plan, she cried out inside herself. God? What had the pious soul of her mother done to offend anyone, much less God? Why should she have been taken away so quickly? She should have been allowed to live, to have seen her children grow up to maturity. No, there was no justice. How could Chavala be comforted in a deity so cruel, or so indifferent? She separated herself from the embrace. “Thank you for your kindness, and now I want to take the children home.” She followed Mrs. Greenblatt into the kitchen, where her brother and sisters sat in absolute silence at the table. Looking at their stunned expressions, she was furious at what had deprived them of so much. And so damned unfairly.
    They got up all at once and embraced Chavala as the tears fell from their eyes. They spoke together, the words tumbling from their frightened lips … “Mama’s dead, Chavala,” said Moishe…. “What will happen to us?” asked twelve-year-old Sheine. Ten-year-old Dvora looked at Chavala as though she could find the answers to chase her fears, and the youngest, eight-year-old Raizel, who could not fathom what dying was… “Why did mama go away from us, Chavala?”
    In spite of her effort to console them there was still a bitterness showing. “Because God decided He needed mama more than we do … now dry your tears. I’ve come to take you home. You must be strong. Papa needs us.” As she adjusted Raizel’s babushka she added, “You have a sister. Yes, children, rejoice. Little Chia is the gift mama gave us … now, come.”
    How quickly God wanted back what belonged to him, Chavala thought. What had come from the earth was returned to the earth … According to Jewish law the burial took place as soon as possible. It denied any display of ostentation, insisted on the starkness of burial rights. It was a tradition of thousands of years that a Jew was to be buried in an unadorned pine box, and the body laid to rest in a white linen shroud. It was not only a mitzvah but the duty of the entire village to attend the funeral as one family. It was almost a commandment. For Rivka Rabinsky the landsmen not only paid their respects but mourned her passing. They stood in the rain and watched the coffin being lowered into the cold ground and in that moment sobs reverberated through the morning air. In the minds of many was the thought that what they were now witnessing one day would be theirs, that their days too were numbered and that eventually all roads led to the grave. How important it was for mortal men to walk humbly with God … Don’t forget it…
    Avrum bent down and placed a tiny bag of ancient holy dirt on top of the coffin as the tears fell from his wrinkled face. “Sleep in peace, my beautiful Rivka … my days will be lived in grief until I lay side by side with you.”
    The children clustered close to Chavala as they watched. The eeriness in the small cemetery, the solemnity of the rabbi intoning the eulogy would trouble their dreams through the long, long nights to come.
    All was silent now as each mourner threw a handful of soggy earth over the grave.
    Dovid caught Chavala’s arm as she faltered for a moment, then with Avrum and the children they walked slowly away from the cemetery.
    The next seven days were spent in mourning as the men sat on the floor and prayed the ancient psalms for the dead while the women of the village paid homage to the bereaved Rabinskys by sharing the little food they had….
    A month had passed and now Avrum spent his every waking moment in the room he had shared with his beloved wife. Behind the closed door he stood in silent prayer.