I've been running low the last two months and one week. And I'm going to say the dumbest thing anyone could ever say, but I wish people didn't die. I guess I'm just at the kind of meh stage of grieving. Yesterday was my aunt's birthday. And it's weird. I kept spontaneously crying all day. Most of the time it was just leaky tear ducts. But a few times, I had full on break downs. The whole time, I kept thinking how I wanted to talk to my mom. Just someone to say, "I know sweetie. It is hard. You grew up with her. She was an influential part of your life." Maybe throw in a few sympathetic grunts and hmms. But that's not what I've got. I'm not sure if that's ever what I would have gotten from my mom, but for sure, I'd have gotten maybe an "aww," but then a quick segue to something that's been bothering her.

So I called my aunt Linda instead. Guess what she said to me. "I know sweetie. It is hard. You grew up with her. She was an influential part of your life." And then we talked about bookshelves and movies. My aunt Linda is the master of strategic small talk. She acknowledged how I was feeling. Didn't try to make it go away. Commiserated, and then talked about something else.

So here's what I know about Marilyn. She was from New York, like gargoyles, had dogs for children. That's it. She had the most beautiful smile. In my childhood, when things seemed nice, she was vivacious and smiled a lot. She made her own pasta. Then sometime, fifteen years ago, my whole family seemed to just get tired. We weren't as happy as we had been. It was like everybody gave up on going all out for each other. Then they gave up on being nice. Eventually, they gave up on being considerate. Marilyn stopped trying so hard, but she never stopped trying to be nice. She shielded me and my brother from the rockiness of the relationships between our family members.