In front of the doorway stood the fig mulberry tree, just as it always had.
It was the tree little Dina used to climb and play in when she was a child.
Once, she slipped and fell from it—but she never told her parents.
She was afraid they might forbid her from climbing it again.
Many anemone flowers were blooming nearby.
They were Dina’s mother’s favorite flowers.
Dina and Luke looked at each other in front of the strong wooden door.
A bronze decoration, made by Dina’s father long ago, was fixed to it.
Mother and son took a deep breath.
The gentle buzzing of bees lingered in their ears.
“Father… Mother…” Dina called out.
There was no answer.
Gathering her courage, she opened the wooden door and stepped inside.
Cool air wrapped around them, soft and calm.
It took a moment for their eyes to grow used to the dim light.
A man was sitting alone at the wooden table.
He stood up slowly and looked at Dina and Luke without speaking.
Dina spoke in a quiet voice.
“Father… I’m home.”
A voice came from the man, as if squeezed from deep inside.
“Dina!”
Her father rushed to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Dina! Oh, Dina! Dina!”
“Father… I’ve come home,” Dina said.
“To you, to Mother, and to my God.”
“My daughter… my daughter,” her father said, holding her tightly.
“You came back. You truly came back.
Thank you, Jehovah. Thank you.
To be able to call my daughter’s name again—there is no greater joy than this.
…But Dina… your mother… your mother has gone.
Rachel has gone.”
Dina grasped her father’s hands and cried out.
“What do you mean…?
Mother has gone…?”
Her father repeated softly, like a broken echo.
“Your mother has gone.
She waited for you for so long…
No… she has not truly gone.
She has come back with you today.
You look so much like her.”
Dina collapsed to the floor.
She had always believed her parents would live forever.
That they would always be there.
The thought that her mother was gone—that she would never see her again—felt impossible.
It could not be true.
“Mother… I’m sorry.
Mother… I’m so sorry.
Why… why did this happen?
I thought I would see you again.
I want to see you… I want to see you…”
Luke had no words.
In front of the great mystery of death, people can do nothing.
It is like standing before a thick wall that cannot be moved even a millimeter.
Before it, people lose not only their strength—but even the power to think—and can only stand still.