I had spoken to a cemetery employee around 12:00pm, confirming the row and plot numbers of the sites I was looking for. The woman told me a map could be found just inside the chapel on the cemetery grounds. I got home from work by 6:00pm and packed up my camera, heading to the nearby hills to the tiny Jewish graveyard tucked in the midst of quiet residential neighborhoods. The sun was threatening to fall behind the rows of tall evergreens, so I knew I had to locate and photograph the three stones quickly.
As I approached the chapel, I immediately saw a small sign listing the building's hours. It had closed at 3:30pm. I paced up and down the aisles of headstones for several minutes, eventually spotting diminutive plaques embedded in the healthy grass. Row letters. Thank goodness. I easily found the first two names on a shared gravestone with classic, decorative script. I had more trouble finding the last stone, though, and I walked up and down the row I thought for sure was the one I wanted.
I was reminded of living in Rochester, NY as a kid and walking around the beautiful and serene Mount Hope Cemetery (where I hope to be buried, but it seems unfeasible) with my mother. We were looking for the grave site of a long-dead, distant relative, but despite having the necessary information and knowing the approximate location, we couldn't find it. I noticed a little squirrel running around through the headstones and my eyes followed him. After a little while he climbed up on top of a headstone and turned to look at me. I read the name on the stone and, of course, it was the one we were searching for.
At the Neveh Zedek Cemetery, however, there seemed only to be insects and the occasional bird calling from above.
