Funerals -1. 3

      
       ... The procession of Yervand’s funeral ended. And people scattered about their villages and homes, leaving the orphaned Yervanda family with a few close relatives, and their irreplaceable grief, and unhappiness. Perhaps this, too, is a part of the established ritual of parting forever with your near and dear. From this moment, everyone, and especially the family, will have to learn to live forever without a loved one. As we all know, people tend to get used even to it. Of course, grief and misfortune do not disappear, only pain in the depths of one’s soul becomes dull with every passing day. Apparently, that's why they say that time heals heartache.

      It is fair to mention the atrophy of mental pain over time. And all this will certainly happen to his wife, children and all other people who were touched by the death of Yervand and suffered a feeling called unhappiness. Only a short period of time will pass before they can even laugh, continue to live and enjoy life, follow the usual rhythm of life. Everything will be the same as before, only without their loved one. Perhaps it is for the sake of calming his soul in that world that one should do just that.

       Perhaps, for the sake of memory of him, they should learn to live without the loved one and, even, enjoy life. Such is the human nature and essence around here. Thus the Almighty created these people. Perhaps this is one of their main purposes. After a long farewell with Yervand’s family, Hovhannes and Arus headed for their home. On the way they did not utter a word. However, it seemed to both of them that they were talking about something. From time to time their eyes met, they sighed and looked away, guilty and tenderly. Arus for a moment caught herself thinking that she could well have been in the place of Ervand's wife, but she tried to instantly throw away these thoughts.

Almost at the same time he imagined himself in the place of Yervand, but immediately tried to divert these thoughts from himself. At dusk it seemed that they almost crossed themselves at the same time. Communication without words continued all the way to the house. Wordless communication, they continued even at home. Without words spoken aloud, they were sure that they perfectly understood each other's thoughts and musings. Children occasionally broke the silence established in this house from the moment the news came of the death of the esteemed Yervand-dai. However, immediately realizing the indecency of their behavior, the children looked guiltily at each other and immediately went silent. So their day was over. It is customary in the local places to go to bed early.

Either from accumulated stress or fatigue from daytime worries and troubles, or out of habit, or from the necessity  to wake up early the next day, because whether they want it or not, and the next day, early in the morning, the whole household will wake up, which it will have to be dealt with. That’s how it’s always been here. That’s how their fathers and mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers, and all other ancestors lived. By mutual agreement, without uttering a word, they, with special voluptuousness, performed also the marital duties, also established from time immemorial, and, completely, devastated and, extremely, exhausted, fell asleep, in mutual embrace, with a feeling of spiritual tenderness and, the greatest mutual responsibility.

        It was a moment when each of them, without uttering a word, was ready to convey to his beloved that they were ready for any feasible accomplishments and sacrifices, so that the beloved was happy and did not experience any burdens on his soul. It seemed that each of them in his place was ready to shield his beloved person from all sorts of hardships of mortal life, up to the point of dying and bearing hardships in place of his soulmate. Apparently it was in this that they were destined to find tranquility and bliss. Perhaps this is what love meant here. Love is when a man and a woman find bliss and tranquility in each other and understand their responsibility to each other, while experiencing fear and respect for nature itself and the Almighty, for the death and, most importantly, for life. Heavy eyelids, like fog, covered Oganes' eyes, and he fell asleep in the arms of his sleeping wife, admitting to himself, as if a little intoxicated and in blurred consciousness, that there is no happier man in the whole world than he, Oganes Avanesyan , an ordinary plowman and hard worker, working daily, by sweat of his brow, to earn his bread and butter, living in the foothill village of Drmbon, lost from the rest of the world, with the rapid, fast-flowing river Terter ...