Letter 69: Had I not been unavoidably detained, the moment I heard that your great and distinguished husband had fallen asleep...

To Eugraphia, Had I not been unavoidably detained, the moment I heard that your great and distinguished husband had fallen asleep I would have come straight to your side. I have received many kindnesses at your hands and owe you a great debt of gratitude. When circumstances beyond my control prevented me from paying it, I thought it unwise to send a letter at the very height of your grief -- when no messenger could have reached you, and sorrow would have kept you from reading what I wrote. But now that your reason has had time to wake from the intoxication of grief, to steady your emotions and discipline the excess of sorrow, I am emboldened to write and to beg your excellency to think on human nature -- to reflect on how common the loss you mourn truly is, and above all to accept what our faith teaches and not let your distress run beyond its bounds. For your most excellent husband, as the Lord himself said, "is not dead but sleeps" [cf. John 11:11] -- a sleep merely a little longer than he was accustomed to. This is the hope the Lord has given us; this is the promise we have received from Scripture. I know how painful the separation is -- how deeply painful. Especially so when affection has been strengthened by harmony of character and length of time together. But let your grief be for a journey to a far country, not for a life that has ended. This kind of wisdom is especially fitting for those raised in piety, and it is this wisdom, my honored friend, that I beg you to seek. I do not offer this advice as one who feels nothing himself. My heart genuinely grieved when I learned of the departure of a man I loved so well.

Letter 69