The Write Place

Read Chapter 6 Here
Table of Contents

The sky was downcast as death lingered in the air.  The gray skies hung over the crowd as a palpable, depressing presence.  The world felt grief.  The rain was holding off for the moment, but fille the air with a bitter chill.  A single, short feminine figure had wandered off from the crowd that hovered around the church.  Finding a place under the tree, she wept.  Abigail’s eyes were wet with tears as she wiped them away with her hands.  David, in his full clerical garb, drew closer behind her.  Stopping several feet away, David opened his mouth as if to speak, hesitating as he sought the right words.  He carried the weight of loss and care for the young woman before him.  Tentative, nervous, he at last began to speak.

“Abigail. Do you need to speak or do you wish to be alone for a moment.  I can understand either way,” he said as his hands gripped his Bible tighter.  Abigail turned to face him.  “No, don’t go. Please stay,” she said, wiping another tear from her eye.  David looked down as he thought before lifting his head, making eye contact with her now glassy blue eyes.  “If you need to talk or anything at all, I’m here.”

“Thank you, I want you to know I greatly appreciate it.  It is just all quite a shock to me.  It was all so sudden.  The thought, being there and seeing his body but he is not within it.  No breath, no life in him,” Abigail said as she wiped away another tear.  “I appreciated your sermon.  It greatly helps to think about how Christ will wipe away every tear one day,” Abigail said as she looked into David’s watering eyes, “especially as I have so many this day.”

“Knowing the world we have to look forward to helps me in darkened times too.  To know the reality of our sufferings but see the reason for hope.  To rest in the assurance, that he makes all things new,” replied David.  “We can mourn but not hopelessly. May I ask what thoughts hold you now?”

“I can’t help but miss him, rather painfully because….,” said Abigail wiping away a tear.  “I don’t know life without my father.  Now he’s gone in a way that is permanent.  I won’t see him again in this life.  My mother died in childbirth when I was ten,” Abigail paused, hanging her head at the memory.  “He was heartbroken like I was, yet he stayed strong for us.  It seems all so unavoidable.  The people you are close to, everyone dies in some measure of time.  Long or short.  I felt so alone when my mother died.  Now, without him, in a way I really. . .” She paused, trying hard to hold back the flood of tears. “I am.  My mother was his second wife.  My siblings are half siblings and, kind as they are, I always felt on the outside.  He was all I had left in a way.  It feels like life is short and cruel.  It’s hard to believe it’s even happened.  It feels like I will never get past losing my father,” her voice trailed off, her head hung by the weight of her sorrows.  Loss for what was and for may have come fell upon her.

“Your feelings are not invalid.  It does hurt now.  The pain is real and we know we’ll see your father again someday.  It is not truly permanent; it is real even as it is for a time. We can mourn still,” David continued.  Memories flowed into his mind of the great man he lost. “He was a great man, still is.  I don’t like to speak of the Christians who have passed as if they are no more. He lives now, in the presence of God. We can mourn with a certain hope knowing he resides with the Lord.  We part, but not forever,” he said before turning his attention to the grieving woman before him.  “Go through it, take time. Loss is a real wound. The assurance we have does not mean we cannot mourn, but rather that we can.”

Abigail nodded knowingly. “I appreciate those words.  I want to just not go through it.  Just skip the whole emotion. Be as if it never happened, I feel guilty for that” she said, new tears welling up inside.  Abigail wiped the tears she could no longer hold.

“How so?” asked David.
“Well, almost as if I didn’t know him so I wouldn’t know the loss.”

“It’s all part of the process in loss. Don’t feel guilty for grieving. I know you’d rather have known him than not, it’s having lost him that you regret. Remember that,” David said, trying to hold back his own tears, the pain visible in their bodies and on their faces. “I know, it’s not easy because he means so much to you. What words would you use? To describe this.  One word to start.”

“Empty, like part of my life is gone.  He truly meant a lot, means a lot to me.  He meant quite a lot to you too, didn’t he?” Abigail said, looking upward to meet David’s face.  Great was her curiosity to hear about her father and what he had meant for the young man before her.

“Well, yes he did.  He was a good mentor in the time I knew him.  He let me know the need here.  Even before that though, the times I met him he was always encouraging.  He took an interest in my career, my learning.  We wrote a lot back and forth, the two of us.  He was an easy man to be comfortable with.  Very supportive.  You knew he cared about you with full sincerity.  Always,” replied David with a voice filled with memories as his eyes filled with tears again.

“I remember whenever there was one last piece of bread, he would always give it to one of us. Even when he was hungry.  He always put us first,” Abigail’s eyes teared up again and she wiped it away with a free hand.  “It doesn’t get easier, like with my mother you just get used to it.”

“Indeed.  I have lost others myself,” said David as a gentle sad look of past memory settled upon his face.

Abigail’s face shifted as she cocked her head with interest.  “Who? Did it ever get easier?”

David looked Abigail in the eyes. “My twin brother.  We were eight, scarlet fever took him before my eyes.  My condition improved.  His did not,” David said with a sorrowful sigh.  “You never get over it. In a manner of speaking, you do learn to accept it and look forward to what God is doing and will do.  So yes, and no.  They are always a part of you.  Sorrow remains, yet life can go on.” 

Abigail smiled through the tears.  “He shall wipe away every tear.  No more sin, no more sorrow, no more suffering,” she said as she wiped the tears dripping down her face.  David reached into a pocket to produce a handkerchief.  Abigail took it out of his large strong hands and began dabbing the cloth against her red, tear-soaked eyes. 

David wore a smile of his own at her words. “Yes, exactly that.  Death doesn’t have the final victory.  It lingers; we can mourn but not without hope.  It’s okay to weep Abigail, for all of it.  Jesus wept.  He experienced sorrow.  Jesus died, then conquered death by rising again,” he finished to nods from Abigail.

“I always pay attention when you speak,” Abigail said with a smile.

“Oh I have no doubt about it,” David said, pleased.

“I wonder if Adam and Eve considered this.  There’s evil in the world, you know it then you see it firsthand.  But there’s still a hope, right?” Abigail remarked as she continued dabbing her eyes with the cloth in her hand.

“Yes.  A certain hope we can count as done,” said David.  He shifted to face the newcomers he could hear running up behind him.  Suzanne and Rebecca rushed over to meet them, holding their skirts so they could run freely.  Upon reaching the pair they began panting for air.

“Sorry we tarried.  Mr.  Roberts was having trouble with his rheumatism and needed to get up the hill.  The Newtons can take him the rest of the way home,” Suzanne said. “Hello Reverend.”
David waved a hand to the newcomers.  “Suzanne, Rebecca.  Will you be alright, Abigail?” David asked, eager to hear that would be well.

“Yes.  Though I’m a bit cold come to think of it,” Abigail said, crossing her arms for warmth.

“Oh, of course! Take my shawl,” said Rebeccah, handing over the white shawl she had draped around her arms.  

“Did you need to continue, Abigail?” David asked, neither wishing to press nor leave the conversation beyond her comfort.
“I’m fine for now, thank you reverend,” Abigail said through the shine of her tears.

“If you need anything Abigail, I’m always accessible.  I need to speak to Samuel before I depart.  They’re preparing supper.  Remember, if you need anything,” said David.  Concern for her weighed heavily in his voice.  Briefly their eyes met before he turned and walked up to the church once more.

“He seems to really like you,” Rebeccah chimed in, breaking the silence.  She rubbed Abigail’s arms as Suzanne handed her a fresh handkerchief.

“He’s being pastoral.  He is skilled at it,” Abigail said, wiping her eyes and waving her freehand to dismiss the idea.

“I think he is especially skilled at it when it comes to you,” smiled Suzanne.  A slight smile appeared on Abigail’s face, piercing the sorrow she had long worn on a dark day.

The sun was beginning to come through the clouds, pouring its light onto the budding tree and the people below, warming the day as light filtered into the world.