So yesterday, Wednesday afternoon, my mother called. She doesn't lead with "hello" or anything normal. Instead, "Noelle is going to have a memorial for Michelle. You should be there. It's going to be Friday and Saturday, you can all stay over here Friday night."
"Wait, this Friday?"
"No, no, in October."
"When in October?"
"Oh, I don't know, Noelle hasn't called the church yet to get a date."
So I have, I think, been asked to hold every weekend in October as a save-the-date for my aunt's memorial? Michelle died about a year and a half ago. She'd been in the hospital--you know when someone is in the hospital and it seems clear that they're not going to get better again, but no one quite wants to say that? Anyway it was not good, and then the hospital locked down to visitors because of the pandemic, and things were confusing for a while, and then Michelle was gone. I never understood funerals, really, except that we're a year and a half on and it still feels little like it never happened. I don't see my aunts and uncles and cousins all that often, I'm as horrible and neglectful of them as I am of everyone else in my life, but Michelle was like my second mom when I was growing up and I loved her and I miss her.
I tried to have something more to say here, but instead I've spent the last few minutes staring out the window and watching a snail drag itself along the patio, so clearly my brain is top-notch this morning.