My father, died first; he was a "hasid" of the Gur sect, and he died in Jerusalem; I did not follow the tradition, and married "out"...my husband's "lineage" is a bit "higher" then the Gur, so he has always been paid "his-due-respect"...but, obviously, it did not extend to me. I was told not to come to my father's funeral! I went a bit crazy, until my mother, who was divorced from my father, said "GO", and I went. And, lo, and behold: the rest of the family women were there...granted they all do belong to the "sect" and were all looking 'accordingly'...was that the reason for telling me not to come?...what right gave them to tell me that?...when I called my sister, who lives in the States, she asked me to please try and postpone the burial...for a daughter? Never! Not in Jerusalem, I was told!...For a son, they would have waited...standing there quite alone in that bitterly cold day of Jerusalem, looking at the women standing to the side...were they afraid of contamination?...I was mixed up with all my feeling bashing and smashing against each other...but I suddenly heard singing...and there around my father's grave were the "hasidim" holding hands, dancing and singing...when I asked one of the women what it meant, she said: "they are sending your father's soul up to the Great One" I went numb...but that sight remains with me...

Next "in-line" was my father-in-law, who died in Tel-Aviv, but was buried in Jerusalem...on the "wrong" side of the great city...the "conquered" part; driving through the Arab part of Jerusalem, was "interesting"...another bitterly cold day...as we were walking down the hill towards the grave, we were stopped and told to return to the hill top; there is a "minhag-Jerushalmi" a Jerusalem tradition?... An only son does not watch his father buried...or some such incredible stuff...so, there we stood, just the two of us, up on that windy hill, looking down where our father was buried...not being able to be with our dear and loved ones...tradition?...

My mother went next; she was very ill and the good Lord really did her a favor by taking her to Him...my mother wanted her grave to be next to her family, who are buried here near Tel-Aviv. She was willing to pay any price for the plot, but they refused her again and again; finally in desperation, she asked them why? No and no, came the answer, and no explanation was given...she persevered, and one day, found somebody who said to her very quietly, as if this was a great secret...that the area she chose, was dedicated to the religious....and they felt that she was not quite...my mother asked one of her grandsons to go with her the next day...the grandson, in his black "kapote" black hat, black beard, "payot" and "tzitiot" walked in and my mother said: this is my grandson. Not a word as spoken; in total silence, they signed the buying order for the plot...and we buried her right there, next to her family...I have no recollection of her funeral...all I remember is trying to postpone it as long as possible, because my sister wanted to be with us, and, again, they would not wait for a "woman"...but she somehow managed to get onto a flight, which brought her very close to the burial time...and she made it! Just as we were ready to depart for the grave area, she rushed in through the gate...my orthodox sister, in her "sheitel" and a floral dress, crying: "I am here, I made it"!...

And so we come to the fourth funeral; again, in Jerusalem and again there was a problem with "space"...my mother-in-law's mother, sister, and two brothers-in-in-law are buried in one area, and she desperately wanted to be near them when her time came. It took some doing, but we eventually found a way to buy a plot for her in that area. Then came the discussion between us: do we tell her?...Or is it not "done"...will she be happy?...or superstitious!... Did you hear about the man, who buys magnificent gifts for his wife's birthday...every year something more special; for her last birthday, be bought her a plot in the most exclusive cemetery; she was thrilled; but the next year, nothing. She waited a couple of days, and when she still got nothing, she said to him: last year you gave me such a magnificent gift, and this year nothing?...and he said to her: "you did not use last years yet"!...

And, so, all these many years ago, we did tell mother-in-law about buying the plot for her, and she was thrilled and very happy to know about it...and at the wonderful age of 99, we buried her there this past month...may she rest in peace.

Send your questions to The Wacky Cook: email: POOP_1@netvision.net.il      

Debbie Morgenstern is the author of "My Life in Israel" and other short stories.