“How can you believe in God now?” he’d ask. “What kind of a God would have let that old man die here in Scheveningen?” I got up from the chair and held my hands out to the squat little stove. I did not understand either why Father had died in such a place. I did not understand a great deal. And suddenly I was thinking of Father’s own answer to hard questions: “Some knowledge is too heavy . . . you cannot bear it . . . your Father will carry it until you are able.”
