This time of year sucks as previously established. It has not been made any easier this year with the death of a dear friend’s mother. It has triply not been made easier with my “other mother” (one of my my spiritual mentors) needing a trip to the hospital reminding me that while she is still sharp as a tack and raising hell, she’s not magically getting any younger. Neither is my uncle who is not doing the best. Still, we tried to make the best of it this weekend by going to my grandparents’ cemetery to leave palms and lilies and to go to Umberto’s with my uncle.
I programmed the anniversary of everyone’s deaths in my phone to come up on my calendar yearly so I can make sure that masses would be said for our beloved dead and I’m working on a master list of where everyone’s buried so that no one will be forgotten as best as I can. Still, my mother was being difficult because it’s tax season (she’s an accountant) and she’s freaking about her brother and has to make a little dig that my nephew won’t be taught prayers. My sister and I are doing our best at the cemetery to keep him from climbing on headstones (he’s two) and I was irritated enough to want to stick it back to my mom as I’m stressed too. So I managed to corral my nephew back to my grandparents’ headstone. I thought for a moment about what I could get a two year old to do to honor our beloved dead (I’m a nanny, damnit) so finally I had the brainstorm to kiss my hand and then put my hand to the headstone, which he did as well without much prompting. After a smug look to my mom I said, “C’mon, kid, we’re gonna go get pizza.”
Fuck March, man.