The cemetery close to our house is full.
This cemetery is a stressful place, at least for me.
There are a lot of people buried there and the sun is unforgiving on Sunday mornings at this time of the year. Despite my stress and the blistering heat, we lay wreaths on the graves.
The order at which we lay wreaths is determined by the departed family member's importance, rank and proximity to those still living.
After the visits, we make our way to an uncle or aunt's house for lunch and fermented beverages.
Some of my family members noticed my discomfort and they were shocked that I was not enjoying the gathering.
It is laborious and admin intense, especially when we are hosting lunch as we did this year.
So, why do I participate in this ritual?
I am my father's daughter and my participation in this ritual is important to my family.
I know some people who do not get along with their families, or if they do, the relationship is strained. I feel for them.
When I look at my father with his siblings, I remember what family looks like; a representation of the people you belong to above everything else.
As I navigated the Moria traffic this year, I was reminded, as I am each year, of how important it is to have your people.