I'm being haunted by owls 🦉

As I’m writing this, it’s been five months since my aunt died. Somehow, it’s already kinda funny. Not how or when or why. But that, it really feels like she hasn’t gone anywhere—starting with her actual passing.

She died around 7:20 pm EST in a hospice center in NJ. Which was 4:20 pm (cool 😎) PST for me… which was exactly-ish when we lost power in our apartment. The only unit in the whole complex.

While we waited for the electric company to flip what I imagine was a cartoon switch somewhere I couldn’t reach, I decided to hang a metal street sign I’d bought weeks earlier. For one “Yeah, I’ll do it later” reason or another I hadn’t put it up yet.

It might read “Pass with Care” (loaded) but I see it as a “Welcome” sign—and proof of the first visit/prank from Haunt Marie, as I’ve lovingly been referring to her. It’s very like her to take quick cross-country flight to knock out our power — on her way to rest with my uncle somewhere in a national park, I assume. (He loved camping, and she, well, loved him.)

Since that first visit, I’ve seen her… everywhere. The actual first time I saw her was at her funeral in June. I kept seeing her in the negative space; like looking at the dotted outline of where she belonged.

Like in that loose space where my dad said he would write her eulogy but then didn’t, or thought everyone should say a few words in her honor at dinner but then forgot to share that with the group. And maybe that sounds bad (oops), but it felt like a secret celebration of her — the family’s plate spinner — to notice the ones that were crashing and/or were appropriately knocked over by her little brother.

I wish I had something gorgeous and poetic to say like: it’s hard to miss someone who’s physically gone but lives vibrantly in your memory. Or here’s a runner-up: I do truly believe there’s a gravitational force between souls—so you’ll never be too far apart from those you love. Oh, I guess I did.

Another thing about my dead aunt

The week before she died, I flew home to say goodbye and before I left—knowing it was the last time we’d “see” each other—I asked her something.

“What do you want to be?”

She rightfully looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.

“How do you want me to know it’s you? You wanna be an owl?”

She smiled and nodded. That sounded good to her. See, her whole ~thing~ was owls: books, jewelry, art, tchotchkes. All owls.

And now that’s all I see. Owl figurines, owl mugs, owl pillows, owl shirts. Owls everywhere. Not a real live one, though—I think she’s saving that for my midlife crisis.

Have there always been this many owls? Probably. I just notice them now—and they mean so much more to me. They’re like a regularly scheduled grief alarm that buzzes to make me stop. Remember. Honor. Smile.

I guess all that’s to say: stop and see the owls. But (I hate this) hoo am I to say.

Funny now: It’s my nonna’s 96th birthday today and I’m celebrating by dropping this lil trailer for my new podcast, SOCIAL CUES, coming to your ears and hearts soon! If you’ve ever had a social interaction that’s left you wondering “Did I just make that weird?,” then this is the pod for you.