Marcus so big now. At the library, he played at the activity table. At home, he ran around with the push toy I bought him in Cracow. At the apple orchard, he mimicked Husband and me as we posed with apples, pretending to eat them.
It was a great weekend. It was also a sad weekend. It was the first Rosh Hashana that I didn't spend at some sort of semi-traditional family meal. (We went out for Mexican food, which was nice.) My parents did not, for the first time maybe ever, get together with my grandmothers for dinner. My in-laws did not do anything, either.
My sister and I discussed this after we came back from the apple orchard. As we talked about the past, I told her that I regret not trying harder to get my grandfather to talk about his life before the war, about his family. "It wouldn't have mattered," she said. "He was never going to talk about that. He had to put it behind him. There was nothing you could have done differently."
Somehow, it made me feel better. Now I just have to hang in there until I can see everyone in mid-October.