his funeral
weather: 🌤️ you'd never know it hurricaned last night
critters: ducks again
a few years ago, around this time of year, i watched my aunt's livestream of his graveside funeral. i was in bed--it was six in the morning, pacific daylight time. i'd set an alarm for the purpose. (a couple days before, i'd said a few words to him through a cellphone my aunt held to his unconscious ear. i don't know if he heard me.)
there were six people:
- my aunt.
- a middle-aged man from church who checked on all the old widows and widowers periodically.
- this man's wife.
- a priest.
- my other aunt, over zoom.
- me, ditto.
he was, through and through, the kind of ex-cowboy who'd end up where he ended up--personally attended by the only daughter who didn't hate him on some level, eulogized and buried by religious obligation. they were longtime acquaintances whom he never promoted to friends.
the further i get away from his death, the more i realize i was the only one he was nice to. i may be the only person on earth with no bad memories of him. i wish i'd asked more questions about his life while he was alive to answer. but maybe more than that, i wish he'd been nicer to everyone else.