Yesterday was okay. It was a really busy day, so I didn’t have much time for wallowing. I seem to have done that on Monday. The anticipation of it is as bad as the date itself.
We did go to the cemetery. Natan’s grave is still a patch of bare dirt at the highest point in the baby section, so it gets a lot of sun. I chose the spot for that reason. It’s also right next to our synagogue’s section, and I liked that he will be among older and past members. It also makes me feel more confident that after we inevitably have to move away from this town, the rabbi won’t forget to visit Natan’s grave when he visits all the graves of former members – something he told us he does periodically when I expressed worry about his grave being unattended after we leave. Or that when people go to visit their family’s graves, they’ll see his and say a little prayer for him.
I almost cried a few times, but when a friend called in the early evening – and I assume it must have been because she remembered the date but we didn’t mention it – I was almost cheerful. I was wrapped up in work because I have a conference deadline looming.
And then when I went to sleep, I fought the memories of Natan’s delivery. I just don’t need to rework that over and over and over again.