grave hunting

so we go to the cemetery. my great-grandmother, her sister and more recently my grandmother are buried in the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. searching through the old jewish section of the cemetery is always a trick. many of these graves have nott been visited in years, left and forgotten by the 'from loving children, grandchildren'. many of the progeny have immigrated long ago, many others have died themselves. some of the giant gray tombstones have inscriptions in Yiddish. those that are much much older dont have birth dates: people were too old to remember the day and month of birth, simply "died at age ___"; others have just the year for the year of death. most often, it's listed as "1941" with a modifier "tragically died during World War II". you have to wonder if these are empty stones, where souls and bodies of their owners are left somewhere in concentration camps or mass graves. it's eerie to be around this old part of the cemetery, odd to look at names and faces on tombstones, trying to figrue out how people are related to the loved ones buried next to them. my mom tells a funny story: some time in the 60s, my great-grandmother acquired this giant silk imported French scarf. her daughters begged her to divide it into three (it was that long), so that each daughter and she can half a smaller scarf. my great-grandmothers reply? absolutely not, you will bury me in it. the day she died, her sister, my great-grand-aunt Dora came and brought the scarf. she cut it in half and even though they died 8 years apart, each one was wearing her half. we go searching for old graves of relatives' relatives. long story. but this turns into a great adventure. this part of the cemetery is even more abandoned and old than the other. no one knows where graves are, the map at the entrance to the place is terribly inaccurate. the cemetery is divided into sections, but somehow there are 3 sections "18", and "17" is nowhere to be found. we are walking up and down rows, taking detours when rows become too overgrown and impassable. i am walking on a thick soft layer of fallen leaves, both most recent and those left over from winters before. bugs are everywhere, even though it's october. i am fighting grasses, climbing over bushes, ducking under branches. it is a jungle. i am somewhat disgusted and somewhat creeped out, hoping not to step on a concealed dead animal or worse not to fall into an uncovered abandoned grave. this is not fun, especially since we're looking for some tombstone with a jewish last name, essentially searching for a cohen in a sea of cohens (not really, but you get the point, and i defintiely found like 4 different people i wanted to claim as the right ones, just so we can stop looking). at some point, i lose everyone and panic. then, we come across some dude who is 'trying to help' by asking man questions withoutany answers. not sure what he is doing there, randomly, but there is a pair of pants hanging out about 10 feet away from this guy. "mother, is this man wearing pants?" he is. we finally find the one we're looking for and walk back to the car. i open the trunk to get the purses out (because they are hiding there while we're on the adventure), i shut the trunk close and the car pulls away. srt of not funny, i try to jog with it, but i have three purses (yes, my uncle wears a purse ("it's european")) and it's hard to keep pace. so i lose them. i am lost at the cemetery. fuck. thankfully, i chased the car long enough to be facing the main street, i head towards it. i finally realize that i have a cell phone, so i dial, hoping my uncle has his mobile in his jacket. he picks up: "hello?" "where did you go??" "who is this?" "umm... ALEX?" "who's Alice?" 'godamit, just check the back seat for me!" ...pause..."SHIT!" i'm ok. everyone made it out, but just to be fair. death, i guess, is not so funny.