Yesterday.
An elderly cousin’s funeral.

My brother and I drove together.
A car ride of conversation and laughter and the hum of the road.
Just being alongside him hit the right spot.
I’m channeling that feeling as I write these words.

Two cousins spoke at the service.
Each reflective.
Choked up.
Simple stories that anyone that knew Milt would appreciate with a chuckle or a tear or both.

Maybe 50 or 60 people.
Celebrating a life.
A shared thread.

Me…looking around at aging faces I’ve known my entire life.
In so many ways still feeling like a kid.
Taking stock with smiles and hugs.
Listening to stories.

And then…all of us…back to our respective bubbles.
Some of us thinking, actually saying…see you at the next one.

You can’t experience these things without imagining your own or who might be….next.
What it might look like.
Who might show up.
What they might say.

The after party for the ones left behind.

This morning I’m still thinking about that thing I said to my brother again as we were headed home.

It sits with me most days.

I just want to be missed.
To have mattered.

…and just like that, I’m transported back to that car ride alongside him.