I'm being haunted by owls šŸ¦‰

As Iā€™m writing this, itā€™s been five months since my aunt died. Somehow, itā€™s already kinda funny. Not how or when or why. But that, it really feels like she hasnā€™t gone anywhereā€”starting with her actual passing.

She died around 7:20 pm EST in a hospice center in NJ. Which was 4:20 pm (cool šŸ˜Ž) PST for meā€¦ 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 couldnā€™t reach, I decided to hang a metal street sign Iā€™d bought weeks earlier. For one ā€œYeah, Iā€™ll do it laterā€ reason or another I hadnā€™t put it up yet.

Of course itā€™s bothering me that one pair of my shoes isnā€™t ā€œhow I like it.ā€

It might read ā€œPass with Careā€ (loaded) but I see it as a ā€œWelcomeā€ signā€”and proof of the first visit/prank from Haunt Marie, as Iā€™ve lovingly been referring to her. Itā€™s very like her to take quick cross-country flight to knock out our power ā€” 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, Iā€™ve seen herā€¦ 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 didnā€™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 ā€” the familyā€™s plate spinner ā€” 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: itā€™s hard to miss someone whoā€™s physically gone but lives vibrantly in your memory. Or hereā€™s a runner-up: I do truly believe thereā€™s a gravitational force between soulsā€”so youā€™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 leftā€”knowing it was the last time weā€™d ā€œseeā€ each otherā€”I asked her something.

ā€œWhat do you want to be?ā€

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

ā€œHow do you want me to know itā€™s you? You wanna be an owl?ā€

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

And now thatā€™s all I see. Owl figurines, owl mugs, owl pillows, owl shirts. Owls everywhere. Not a real live one, thoughā€”I think sheā€™s saving that for my midlife crisis.

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

New album just dropped.

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

Funny now: Itā€™s my nonnaā€™s 96th birthday today and Iā€™m celebrating by dropping this lil trailer for my new podcast, SOCIAL CUES, coming to your ears and hearts soon! If youā€™ve ever had a social interaction thatā€™s left you wondering ā€œDid I just make that weird?,ā€ then this is the pod for you.