Historical setting: 602 C.E. A cottage in the Vosges
In the dark of morning I waken and I see Ana there sitting by the fireside reading the letter on fine vellum from Gabe. It’s a short letter — she must be pondering.
“Did Gabe tell you how he’s doing?”
“He didn’t have to. The inks are smudged with his tears. He’s learning all the proper words and scripture references a churchman uses to speak of grief,” Ana answers. “It looks a bit like his teacher was telling him what to write.”
“Well, he is a child in the care of an adult who hasn’t known him from birth. So how else might it be done? Clearly his teacher didn’t ignore his grief altogether or even disavow his tears. And they allowed him the very best vellum for this.”
“But Laz, he just doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds like a stuffy old priest preaching doctrine.”
She hands me the precious scroll and I have to agree. This sounds like one of those pronouncements spoken at the funeral of a stranger. We’re not even sure if this soul discussed here is being committed to heaven or elsewhere. But really, committing a soul isn’t the work of an older brother. It is one of those things I would only entrust to God. But Ana is hurt by all this incantation of holy committal.
I try to resolve it for her. “These kinds of words are offered by earthly priests to fill the emptiness of earthbound longings. And isn’t it the task of the priest to bridge the divide between earth and heaven?”
“Gabe is our child, Laz. I wanted to keep this letter as a precious remembrance now that he is off with the monks. I wanted something of him to read and read again.”
“The cow bellowed long and loud when her calf was taken from her for this swath of vellum. We shouldn’t waste it. Let’s take up our own inks and make the verso of this scroll with prayers of gratitude for these beautiful children we once thought belonged only to us.”
“I can’t do that Laz.”
“Not today. But keep it in the place for precious things and sometime, when the time is right, we can add our words. The pain of grief is the empty side of the love we’ve known every day. Thank you, God for family love.”
“Greg and his friend will be at this hearth soon. I need to be ready.” Ana offers no Amen.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 