[M] It was in the year 3784, that which the Invaders call 776. The days had been so hot, even for the month Tammuz.
Yosef, now I recall, had some difficulty with walk. Just the evening before we took to our precious hill, more slowly to be sure. Gabe, remember that I had previously spoken of him rushing about with the speed of a desert wind? This was no longer my husband.
We prayed a short time then talked and laughed well beyond the beautiful setting of the sun. Oh dear Adonai, that was to be our last time together at the special place. Oh, dear, oh dear…
Yosef, he was so tired after work and so cold, asked for a robe and for some water. Then came death, as he rested on bench outside. He was so very young, just 49 years of age.
Tradition required that his body be placed into the ground with haste. Dear Yosef is up there, buried just beyond the crest of our hill.
As we sat Shivah, those seven long days of mourning, there were present all of the family, the Rabbi, friends of Yosef, as well as visitors from Sepphoris. So respected was he. How proud to be married to this most kind and gentle man.
Gabe, if you tell others, please, please make known that he was the most blessed husband, guardian to my son the Moshiach, a friend, a father to the other children and a teacher. Simply the most dedicated man put upon this earth by the Master of the Universe.
And for now to my prayers. Let us talk very soon in the garden.