On the road from Emmaus: A story from Cleopas' wife

It was just too intense, we had to get away.
So much crying, so much sadness.
Mary Magdalene wailing,
Peter groaning out loud every five minutes
and pounding his fists against his knees.
But worst of all was Jesus’ mother Mary
just sitting motionless,
holding her sides, staring into space,
almost as if she was waiting for something.

There was nothing to wait for,
it was over. Finished.
As final as the thunk of that rock
falling into place over the entrance to the tomb.
There’s something you can hang on to:
death, the one certainty.
Now it claimed even Jesus, our Lord.
We had hoped…
well…we had hoped for a lot of things.