Rabbi Victor S. Appell, former religious leader at Temple Emanu-El in Edison, is the small congregations specialist for the Union for Reform Judaism.

Several years ago when I moved to Metuchen, my older brother Howard mentioned that he thought our grandmother was buried in a cemetery not too far from my new home. Our parents had long since passed away, and we had no records of where our father’s mother was buried. In our family, visits to the cemetery were rarely made. I was 10 when my grandmother died, and I have few memories of the funeral.

To be honest, it never occurred to me to find my grandmother’s grave. I always assumed she was buried in Queens or out on Long Island. Even if I had wanted to, it would have been impossible to search through the many cemeteries to locate where she was buried. Howard suggested that my search might not be that difficult and that it would not even take me far from home.

The next time I was at one of the two nearby cemeteries to conduct a funeral, I asked in the office if they had any record indicating that Fannie Berkowitz, my grandmother, was buried there. They did not, but suggested that I check the other nearby cemetery, Mount Lebanon in Iselin. Mount Lebanon is a small cemetery bordered by small homes and apartments. A road runs right through the middle, a road I often take as a shortcut to a local shopping area. Mount Lebanon is simple. No statues, no gardens, no ponds. Just a cemetery. Perhaps that is why I like it.

I stopped by the cemetery’s small office, not really expecting to locate my grandmother’s grave site. After a bit of searching through old files, they found the record for a Fannie Berkowitz. According to their notes, Fannie was buried in March of 1970. Yes, this was my Fannie. This was my grandmother.

The woman in the office gave me a little map with directions to my grandmother’s grave. My grandmother had belonged to a burial society. Each month Grandma paid a small amount to the society to make sure that she would have a Jewish funeral, a headstone, and perpetual care for the site. Grandma got her money’s worth. The site was well kept. When I found the headstone, I realized that in all probability no one had visited my grandmother’s grave since the unveiling of her headstone more than 30 years ago. Not surprisingly, there were no small rocks or pebbles on grandma’s stone. I looked around. After 30 years, no tiny stone would do for my Grandma. I found a ridiculously large and heavy rock and placed it in top of my grandmother’s headstone — as if this could somehow make up for so many years. I was ashamed to think that people visiting nearby graves saw that there were never any stones on Fannie’s tombstone. Perhaps, I thought, comforting myself, visitors to nearby graves had felt bad for my grandmother and took the time to place a small rock on her tombstone.

When I got home I called my brother. I told Howard that he was right, and that I found Grandma. Our parents are buried several hours away, and neither Howard nor I make the trip very often. But now, Grandma is just a few minutes away. I can literally stop by on the way to the supermarket. In fact, I do. And whenever I stop by for a visit, I always make sure to place a rock or pebble on Grandma’s headstone. I am not sure if I am doing this for her, for me, or for some stranger visiting a nearby grave. Perhaps I am doing it for all of us.

With my visits to my grandmother’s grave, I am fulfilling the obligation of kavod hamet, respect for the dead. At the same time, I am developing a greater sense of connection to my family’s history. We are a small family with few traditions or possessions passed down from one generation to another. And now I am sharing my own traditions. While my children never had the opportunity to know their great-grandmother, they will know where she is buried. Indeed, to everything there is a season. I never would have expected to locate my grandmother’s grave site, let alone live nearby. I also would never have expected to find such comfort from visiting her grave and placing a small rock on her headstone.