The Madonna and the Political Prisoner, Chapter 3/2

And so we settle into a new routine. Joshua and James work together every day from morn till evening. They are keeping abreast of the orders, so they say, and I don’t hear too many arguments between them. I chat to the customers when they come to collect their implements or order new carpentry and they seem to be satisfied with the quality of what the boys are making. Joshua has a good head on him and can cope with the financial side of the business. He knows what to charge and has a fine way with the customers. I wondered if someone would try to cheat them, but everyone knows Joseph is here and able to give advice and he has sufficient respect from the villagers for them not to want to take advantage of his illness.

In all our worries, the need to find a wife for Joshua has become a low priority. I haven’t wanted to bother Joseph or get him stressed about this. Joshua himself seems unperturbed and is not pushing in any way, he seems remarkably unconcerned and when I raised it once, just said that there were many other priorities at the moment. I’m having a job stopping Joseph taking on physical labour again. He’s been up and about for a few weeks now, and I’ve persuaded him to do no more than watch the boys and give advice when appropriate. I’ve got my sons to promise that they will not let their father undertake any physical work and if he tries, to call me immediately. Joseph knows this and is aware how cross I’ll be if he tries! Anyway, he seems content with the quality of the work the boys are doing. I know he’s frustrated though and I don’t like the fact that he still gets pains in his chest and arm. He often has to stop and rest.

The other children have been good, though I can tell the younger boys are anxious. Little Joe in particular - well it’s silly to call him little, he’ll be of age soon and we need to plan his ‘bar-mitzvah’ - he fusses over his father and wants to fetch and carry things for him, and he keeps asking me if Joseph will really be alright. I wish I could reassure him better. Salome is very sensible and is a great comfort to me and she and Ruth spend a lot of time together.

We’re just settling down into this routine, with Joseph gradually regaining his strength and seeming determined to get back into the role of the main breadwinner of the family, when my worst fears are realised. One evening, when Joseph has been active most of the day in the workshop, and we are walking to the synagogue to see Joel, he complains of a sharp pain in his chest. We return quickly and he takes a rest while I prepare the evening meal. My concern is heightened because it is rare for Joseph to admit to any pain and it is clearly bothering him badly. I’m just wondering if I should send for Matthaeus, although I’m not sure what good he’d be, when Joseph suddenly shouts out and I turn and see him grimacing in pain clutching his chest and gasping for breath. James takes one look at me and rushes out of the door. I’ve no need to tell him what to do. Joshua has gone to Joseph. He looks at me. There are tears in his eyes. He knows. I know this time. I take Joseph in my arms and hold him tight. He is gasping for breath, groaning, jerking in my hold as the pain grips him anew. Then suddenly he goes limp. His rasping breath is stilled. I feel Joshua’s hand on my shoulder. The other children are staring at us open-mouthed. Joe suddenly bursts into tears. My mother puts her arm around the twins and Ruth and draws them from the room.

“Come, my children, let us give them room. Come with me and help me get some water. They’ll be needing some.”

Mother hasn’t been to the well for weeks. Each step is painful for her now. But she knows what has happened and she wants to get the younger children out of the way.

I have one arm round Joseph and the other clasps Joe who is weeping uncontrollably in my lap. Joshua still has one hand on my shoulder, with the other he strokes the head of Joe, trying to soothe him. My tears have not yet come. I’m still shocked. It was so sudden, so quick. I know this worry has been gnawing at the back of my mind for the last couple of years and especially since his first collapse a few months ago, but I’d really thought he was recovering - well, I supposed I wanted to think so and had persuaded myself that he was regaining his strength. I feel Joshua’s hand softly replacing mine behind Joseph’s back and he lays him gently on the mattress. He kisses his father on the forehead and closes Joseph’s eyes. The tension in Joseph’s face seems to fade away, the muscles round the cheeks and jaw slacken.

“I’m not ready yet, Mother. I don’t think I can do anything more now.”

I hear what Joshua says but I can make no sense of it. I don’t know what he is talking about. I’m not really listening, perhaps I misheard. Joshua has prised Joseph from my grasp. He is not being callous - he is seeking to ease my pain. I hear him, somewhere in the distance of my mind speaking to the others.

“Joe, Salome, let’s leave Mother alone with our father for a few minutes. Come with me. We’ll go to the synagogue and tell the rabbis.”

I was going to tell them to stay, it didn’t matter but they were gone. I’m alone with Joseph now and the tears can fall. At first I let myself go and clutch at his body, but then I pull back and sit beside him and look and think. Joseph, my husband, the only man who has known me so completely, every inch of me, and me of him. Seventeen years I’ve known him, sixteen of those we’ve lived as man and wife. Father of six of my children and father, yes, father to Joshua too, father in all but the moment of conception. Generous Joseph, who could have rejected me, could have refrained from intervening, not shared with my mother the endeavour of saving me from the widespread condemnation. Joseph who shared the privilege of caring for our God-sent son, why oh why could you not wait to see the fulfilment? My thoughts go back to my own father who spent his life fighting the Roman occupation and praying for the Messiah who would vanquish the invaders, when I knew that we were at the very cusp of the enactment of all his fervent wishes. And now my Joseph, even he will not see the culmination of all that’s been promised to us. And I cry for Joseph, for his unfulfilled dreams.

I’m still weeping silently, staring at my husband’s lifeless body, when James bursts in, followed by Matthaeus.

“I’m sorry we were so long, Mother, but I couldn’t find him. Here he is now. Is it too late?”

He looks at me, then at the still figure of his father and his face crumples. Matthaeus looks at me too and goes to check the pulse of my dead husband. He nods.

“Yes, son,” he says, “we are too late. I don’t think even if we’d got here quicker that we’d have saved him. You must comfort your mother now. She’ll need you to be strong for her.” He glances round. “Where are the others?”

“Thank you for coming,” I say to Matthaeus, “but there is nothing you can do now. Leave us to grieve together.” Matthaeus nods once more and backs quietly out of the door. James looks at me. He is flushed from running, it makes him look angry.

“Why?” he shouts. “Why us, why my Father? We prayed for him. Why didn’t God listen to us?” And he bursts into tears.

I wait until he has calmed a little.

“I don’t know, James, I don’t know. But I’ve felt myself in God’s protective arms all my life. I’m sure he’ll not let us down now. Your father has not been a fit man these last few years. God saved him long enough for you and Joshua to be older and strong, able to support us all. We’re going to rely on you and your brother now, James. Be strong for me. Weep for your father, yes. But be strong, help your brothers and sisters to cope as well as me. We’re still a loving family. Let us be united in our grief and in the way we pull together to overcome our sadness.”

Joshua returns at this moment with Joel who reaches out to me immediately.

“Mariam, I’m so sorry. Joseph was a good man. Please accept my condolences. You have a fine family here…” - he indicates Joshua, Salome and Joe who’ve accompanied him – “and I know they’ll be a great comfort to you. And your friends will support you too. My wife and family… anything you want, you have only to ask. I had great respect for Joseph, the whole town did.” Then he is silent. He puts his hands on the shoulder of Joshua and prays with us. Only his voice and the muffled sobs of the children break the silence of the night.