I’m not sure what to do today. It’s not like me to feel this lost on a Monday, especially because my days are usually pretty repetitive. Mondays generally have a rhythm to them. I know what I’m supposed to be doing, what comes next, and how the day is going to unfold. But today feels different. Maybe it’s because yesterday Kel’s dad passed away.

He was a good guy.

This morning, Tommy, Kel, and I went over to the funeral home. I’m not sure what I expected, but I suppose funeral homes are all about the same. They take you into a small room with a long table, and you sit there discussing arrangements while urns and coffins surround you. Everything is very quiet and very matter-of-fact. There’s something almost surreal about how quickly the urns and coffins are put in front of you. You’re still trying to process the fact that someone has died, and suddenly you’re being asked to choose what kind of container they’ll be placed in.

But, of course, it is a business.

Someone has to sell the urns and coffins. Someone has to explain the prices, the services, the paperwork, the transportation, and all the other things that have to be taken care of when someone dies. I understand that. Still, there’s something jarring about it. Death is such a huge and overwhelming thing to the people experiencing it, yet the business of death has to keep moving along as if it were any other transaction.

Being there also brought back memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

I vaguely remember going to a funeral home when Kevin passed away. I remember the urns and coffins and that same kind of small room with the long table. I remember Kevin’s cousin, Melissa, and my dad helping with the obituary. I remember picking up copies of the death certificates. I remember going to the coroner’s office to pick up Kevin’s belongings. There were all these little errands and pieces of paperwork that had to be handled while, underneath all of it, there was the much bigger reality that Kevin was gone.

It’s strange what the mind chooses to remember.

I don’t necessarily remember every conversation or everything that was said. I remember the physical details. The room. The table. The paperwork. The urns. The coffins. Going to the coroner. Picking up belongings. Those ordinary things somehow become attached to the memory of losing someone.

When my dad passed away, I didn’t go to the funeral home. That was all on my mom. She never asked me to go with her, although I would have. I sometimes wonder about that. Maybe she just wanted to handle it herself. I’ll never really know. But I would have gone with her if she had asked.

My dad had an open-casket service. Afterward, he was cremated and buried. Kevin had a service too, but he was cremated before the service.

And, because it was Kevin, there was even a little bit of chaos involved. I remember having to pay $300 to get Kevin to the service on time.

Yes, in pure Kevin fashion, he was almost late to his own funeral service.

There’s something strangely comforting about remembering that now. Death is obviously not funny, and losing someone is not funny, but people don’t stop being themselves just because they’re gone. Sometimes the little details that made them who they were are the things that stay with you. Even something as ridiculous as being almost late to your own funeral can become part of the story you tell about them.

Maybe that’s part of why today feels so strange. Going to the funeral home for Kel’s dad wasn’t just about Kel and his family. It opened a door to all those other losses that I thought I had already packed away somewhere. Suddenly I was remembering Kevin, my dad, and all the strange little things that came with losing them.

And now I’m home on a Monday, not really sure what I’m supposed to do with myself. Maybe there isn’t anything I’m supposed to do.

Maybe today is just one of those days when the past wanders into the present without asking permission. A day when going to a funeral home for someone else reminds you of everyone you’ve lost before. A day when you sit around thinking about urns, coffins, death certificates, coroner’s offices, old memories, and people who aren’t here anymore.

It’s an odd way to spend a Monday.

But I suppose grief has never been particularly good at following a schedule. I have grieved. I don’t feel numb or in a fog now when I think of Kevin or my dad. Thinking of them makes me smile. Because, as we do know deep down, loved ones want us to smile when we think of them. But they are ok if you shed a tear or two. But they just want us to be happy and live our lives.

But I’m still confused about what I should do today. Should I just watch YouTube? Or play a game? Tommy and Kel are asleep. I’m not tired. I think that has something to do with the fact that my new medication’s effects are to keep me awake and focused. Well, I’m awake. We will work on the focus later. Today, I’m not too worried about that.

Maybe I will read for a bit. I have two books that I took out of the library and am reading on my Kindle. The first one was a hyped-up cozy read that I’m curious about: A Witch’s Guide to Magical Innkeeping. It sounds like a magical, fantasy read. I have read about a third of the book. So far, I see the cozy vibes. It very much has an autumnal atmosphere to it. But I keep hoping that something will happen. It seems we are going in circles right now. The execution of the story is a bit immature, though this is an adult read.

The second book, Tommy and I started this book years ago. I wanted to finish it. It’s called The Girls of Atomic City: The Untold Story of the Women Who Helped Win World War II. I had to start from the beginning again. So far it’s an interesting read. The only gripe I have is that there are so many characters in this book that I’m having trouble keeping all their stories straight. And the book tends to jump around a lot, of course, with so many characters. But I do find it a bit hard to keep things straight.

So, I’m reading two books at the same time. Probably not the best for me since I have trouble focusing. And I seem to be having a little trouble with both books. But I want to know how these stories end. Ok, so I know how the Girls of Atomic City turns out. But I’m interested in the individual stories. That is, if I can keep them all straight.

I just accidentally put my foot on O’Malley’s head. He is sleeping under my desk, and while I should have known he was there because he always is. I do sometimes forget that a big, orange cat frequently takes a nap under my desk.

I guess I will get to my task of not doing much.

Oh, you know what else I thought about? Social media. Kevin got a message on his Classmates.com account. I forgot about that site. But I got the email, and you can only see the message if you unlock your account. Meaning, pay to read. I’m not paying. Especially with someone else’s account. Part of me was curious, but a bigger part of me isn’t. I can see who looks at his profile from the emails that Classmates sends me. Sometimes I will get an email out of the blue.

But I had forgotten about that site. Kevin wasn’t much into social media, and the only social media they had when he was alive was Myspace. And he didn’t have a Myspace account. I had an account. Facebook and all the other social media accounts weren’t around yet. Most of my communication over the internet then was with AOL Instant Messaging. And I don’t even remember what my username was.

I just thought all that about social media was funny. I mean, in only twenty years, social media has really taken off.

Ok, I had my cup of coffee. I’m now going to do my task of not doing much.