Today marks the fourth anniversary of my father’s death. He battled the terrible illness of cancer for several months and lost the fight — just as many others have. In recent years, there seems to be a growing trend of more and more people facing this disease.

My mother went to my father’s grave today to pay her respects, as one would expect. Nothing unusual about that. What surprised me, though, were some of her actions. I hadn’t really noticed them before — or perhaps I had, but hadn’t paid much attention, so they never stayed in my memory.

As she was getting ready to leave for the cemetery, I noticed she was taking several things with her. Among them were some fruits. The day before, she had bought cherries and apricots. It was the first time she had bought these fruits this year. When I asked her why she was taking them to the cemetery, her answer left me speechless:

“I’m taking them to Alexander,” she told me. “Before we eat them ourselves this year, I’m taking them to him first, because it’s the right thing to do. That’s how it should be done. That’s what our ancestors taught us.”

You can imagine my surprise at that moment. Later, when I told my brother about it and expressed how astonished I was, he said: “Why are you surprised? I bring him cigarettes every time I go.”

I should clarify that my father smoked heavily throughout his life. One of the main causes of the tumor that developed in his lungs was smoking. So you can imagine that my brother’s words surprised me even more than my mother’s. How could he bring cigarettes to my father, knowing full well that smoking was one of the main reasons for his death?

I honestly don’t know what to think.

How do these actions seem to you? Do you think, as I do, that they are completely meaningless?

Or do you see them as expressions of love toward my father?

Do similar traditions exist where you live?