In the 10 months that followed my wife’s diagnosis I watched the most bewildering of tricks, the darkest of illusions unfold before my eyes. I understood what the doctors were telling me – the science behind a tumour that metastasises and eventually prevents blood and oxygen from reaching the heart, until the organs shut down. But those mechanics were not enough to explain the mystery of witnessing the sudden end of her life, or my tears, which flowed like streams of knotted handkerchiefs out of a magician’s empty hat.
As I sit at her graveside at the end of her shloshim, the Jewish ritual of 30 days’ mourning, all I can think about is how to find a miraculous way to restore her to life.
Her name is handwritten on a wooden stake planted in the ground above her head.
KERRYN BAKER.
Read the full article by Mark Baker at The Australian (subscription only).