Even though cemeteries are locked on Saturdays, when Muma expressed a desire to visit her father’s grave on the anniversary of his death, we went.  After all, we’ve missed the memorials of Ezi’s parents for two years, and it has always been their way of mourning.  No kaddish, no candles, no speeches.  Only a moment of silence over the grave.  

But although the gates were, of course, barred, we knew of a back door and found our way through the deserted cemetery.  “Not a living soul,” Muma remarked.

Something there chilled me to the bone, and I find myself frozen in bed under heavy covers.  I’ll watch Prince Philip’s funeral like many many of my fellow Israelis,  and see if I can’t get up to go visit the kids.