I sigh and stare into the grave. My brother-in-law presses frozen soil into my hand. The others in attendance stand behind me, awaiting the completion of my final goodbye. And yet I can’t seem to make it. Our lives had only just begun together.
“Ye must throw it into the grave,” my brother-in-law murmurs. “And we must leave before we all catch a chill.”
Sorrow fills my heart. “I don’t want to throw dirt on my husband. I’d rather throw myself into his grave.”
Joseph turns me to face him. “Such talk is a sin against Jehovah. Now, throw in the soil so the laborers can fill the grave, and we can all get warm.”
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