“You’d best go home, Sarah. You have several days, a week at the most. I’m so sorry.”
They staggered, husband and wife, towards the parking lot of Hadassah Hospital. The sun was setting, and the Jerusalem sky was ablaze with a multitude of colors.
Her sun was setting, and yet it was too early. Her life-clock read noon—there must be a mistake.
A woman of valor, who can find? Far beyond pearls is her value.
Her husband’s heart trusts in her and he shall lack no fortune.
How would they tell the kids? It hadHer sun was setting, too early all happened so quickly. “They’ll want to fly in as soon as they find out,” he said, as he turned the key in the ignition. She nodded.
They drove in complete silence. There was nothing to say.
Maybe there was too much to say.
By the time they got home, it was already dark outside and neither had any appetite. She because of the meds, and he because of the fear. Indescribable fear.
It was Wednesday night. Tomorrow was Thursday, and on Friday the kids would come for the weekend.
She fell asleep. Her husband lay awake thinking. Dreading.
Dear Reader, what would you do if you awoke to a life measured in minutes instead of decades? If you awoke to indescribable pain, sorrow and uncertainty? If you awoke, but were unsure if you were actually awake?
Let me tell you what she did.
She rises while it is still nighttime, and gives food to her household and a ration to her maids.