Today on Tablet, Ellen Sussman, thousands of miles from the funeral of her lifelong friends, finds an unexpected place to grieve: the Catholic cemetery in France that also holds the grave of Marc Chagall.
I turned around and looked at the grave next to me. It was different from all the others, I noticed: There were no crosses, no statues, no photographs of the deceased. A flowering rosemary bush draped over one side, and the rim of the tomb was covered with stones, many of them painted with words. Jews put stones on graves to show that they’ve visited, I thought—but this is a Catholic cemetery. Then I looked at the name on the tomb, so faint as to be nearly illegible in the disappearing light: Marc Chagall. My breath caught.
It’s a lovely read. Enjoy the rest here.