The Incorrigible Optimists Club

  ‘It’s the Kaddish. The prayer of the dead,’ Gregorios whispered to me.

  They proceeded in a solemn, slow, staccato tone, stressing each syllable, without bothering about the rain that was drenching them. It was Sacha’s atonement. The forgetting of the past, the hatreds and the misdeeds. It was the assurance that they were reunited and that nothing would ever separate them again. They ended simultaneously, took three steps backwards and bowed. Igor was weeping. Still protected by Werner’s umbrella,

  he stood on his own in front of the grave to receive our condolences. Everybody stood in single file, shook hands, embraced him and uttered a kind word. I was the last to go past. I didn’t embrace him. We stood looking at one another for a few seconds. I had tears in my eyes. I handed him a bag. Inside it were the three ledgers written in Cyrillic characters and the folder of photographs. He flicked through it. He smiled at me sadly, ran his hand through my hair, and murmured a ‘Thank you’ that I can still hear. It was the last time that I saw them all together.

  After Sacha’s burial, the weather turned fine and summer began.

  You shall leave everything you love most dearly:

  this is the arrow that the bow of exile

  shoots first. You are to know the bitter taste

  of others’ bread, how salt it is, and know

  how hard a path it is for one who goes

  descending and ascending others’ stairs.

  DANTE

  Paradiso, Canto XVII*

  * From The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri: Paradiso, translated by Allen Mandelbaum