"Memoir and Requiem"
After a Christmas whose joy was weighed down with sorrow, Fred and his wife came to the Cratchit household to discuss the contents of Mr. Scrooge's will, as explained to them by the old man's lawyer.
"He wished to divide his money into three shares: one for his family, that is to say, Fred and his wife; another for the Crachits; and the last for the poor, or any charities his specified benefactors see fit to contribute to."
This pronouncement from the lawyer was met with an astonished silence, as the two couples tried to imagine what that meant for them.
Bob Cratchit ran his hand through his hair, incredulous and overwhelmed at the prospect of such wealth for himself. "He amassed a fortune … even three ways … can he really mean for us to have it?"
"You can give a share to each of your children," Fred said. "It's his way of providing for us all, and, I think, of enabling us to provide for others. I know I don't mean to keep my inheritance all to myself."
"The other matter," the lawyer went on, "is his testament, his memoir. It seems he wished his nephew and his clerk to read it, and share it at their discretion." He handed Fred a manuscript in a folder. The first piece of paper was smaller than the rest, and served as an introduction:
I do not claim that the events in this account are true, only that I experienced them myself. I have written them here in order to engrave them in my memory, and in the hope that others may learn as I did, and so that my change in demeanor is recognized as an act of grace rather than personal effort.
Bob and Fred stayed up late into the night; it seemed only right to read it then, as the account described events experienced at night. They had to take turns reading aloud in order to rest their voices.
It was a fantastic tale, so much so that at first the men thought that Scrooge was describing a dream; but he emphasized so much how he doubted and then came to believe his senses, that they realized he was describing what he believed to be a real experience. And then they read of how he witnessed scenes from their own experiences, and each found himself exclaiming, "We did say these things!" or "We did do these things!" Bob was horrified, to the point of weeping, at Scrooge's description of the Cratchits discussing Tiny Tim's death—an event that had not, in fact, transpired, but had been revealed to Scrooge as a possible future. The climax, though, was when Scrooge learned of his own pending death:
I saw my own grave, and realized that it was a grave of greed! I had not been punished in my life—or if I had been, I had not recognized it as punishment—and so I would be in my death! I begged the spirit to show me another way; I begged God and His spirits to give me a chance to change my fate, that I might not have a grave of greed, but one of charity.
I woke the next morning, and found myself in my room, and discovered it was Christmas morning, for the spirits had all come in one night. You yourselves know of my behavior from that day forward.
Scrooge testified that was of sound mind and body, and wrote so eloquently that it was hard to doubt his sanity. And yet—
"What do you make of it?" Cratchit asked finally.
"It's a fantastic tale—and I must confess, I find myself wanting to believe it. It would explain his turning point, that Christmas when he decided to open his heart to us. Look, the date even matches."
"Perhaps we ought to keep this among ourselves," Cratchit said finally. "Someday I may share it with my children, but I don't want to frighten them with it now. They're mournful enough knowing they shan't see Mr. Scrooge again."
"Oh, I believe we shall, Mr. Cratchit," Fred said serenely. "I'm sure my uncle's change earned him a place in Heaven, augmenting or bypassing the purgatory in which he saw Mr. Marley. God saved him that night, through his friend and the spirits—which may be called angels."
The beggars and carolers noticed Scrooge's absence, and either heard or deduced that his time had finally come; they acknowledged some pity or sent up a blessing for his sake.
Scrooge had left only enough money for a modest funeral, but Fred and the Cratchits combined their resources to purchase some flowers. Beautiful poinsettias and holly surrounded the open casket.
A fairly sizable audience gathered in the church: there was the Cratchit family, with the parents and all six of their children; Fred and his wife; several solicitors and businessmen; and an elderly woman called Belle, accompanied by her middle-aged son. She introduced herself shyly during the wake: "I hope I am not intruding, sir, but I wished to pay my respects. You see, I knew your uncle Ebenezer in my youth."
Of course, Fred thought: Belle. "I believe he mentioned you, madam, if his memoir."
She was surprised and somewhat troubled. "Did he? In what light?"
"He spoke well of you, though he did feel some pain in the memory; he felt remorse."
Belle seemed amazed. "Do you know, I sometimes thought about coming to call on him; but always I thought better of it. I asked myself, what would be the point? I didn't want to impose guilt or regret on him."
Fred shook the old woman's hand. "He felt them without your imposition, madam. His conscience and God's grace inspired them within him, and drove him to change his ways so as to avoid them in his remaining years. You do him great honor by coming here, and I thank you for doing so."
His words confused Belle, but she was not able to press him for an explanation, as others were lined up to offer their condolences to Scrooge's heir.
When the time came, Fred gave the eulogy he had prepared. He felt it had been put together too hastily, but he had done his best: he had collected testimonials from his wife, Scrooge's associates, and each member of the Cratchit family. He lamented the old man's difficulty in finding joy, and commended the new zeal he had found in giving himself to others.
"He had no family of his own, but he reached out and allowed us to be his family; he came to treat every person as a brother or sister, a niece or nephew. He found happiness by living for God and for his fellow man. I hope that when we think of him, we will be reminded to follow his example, and to always offer ourselves to others."
As Fred closed with these words, sunlight entered the church's windows to shine on the assembly's faces. From his perch on the pulpit, Fred spotted those who had known Scrooge best—Tim, Bob, and Belle. They looked not at the speaker, but at the open coffin; their expressions conveyed acceptance and peace.
They buried Scrooge in his nephew's family plot, next to the grave of his sister Fanny. It was hard work, as the ground was frozen, but those who offered themselves as the gravediggers professed it a privilege to provide such service. It was the least they could do in gratitude for all the old man had done for his community.
Tim Cratchit, who had not shed a tear when he witnessed Scrooge's death, now allowed himself to cry. It was against his nature, because he was such a happy child, but now he wept for his and others' loss of a good friend, a great man. He comforted himself by humming the carol he had sung to Scrooge on his deathbed: "God rest you merry, gentleman."
Disclaimer: The term "grave of greed" is the translation of "Kibroth-hattaavah," a place mentioned in the Bible, Numbers 11:34-35.