More Memories

The year was 1995 or so and I was years away from having children, but still for some reason was walking around with a finger monster puppet in my coat pocket. It must have been winter, because I remember which coat I was wearing and it was a warm one and that the puppet had come from my cousin Donny. He is a podiatrist and used them when he treated kids. He'd pop the monster up from under their toes and say "What seems to be the problem??" in a silly voice.

I was sitting on the couch in the Tiny Happy with Michael talking about random shit when I pulled out the puppet and he laughed gloriously and immediately claimed it as his own. I never really thought about that moment again until yesterday when I was handed a hot pink finger puppet at his memorial. It was different from the original one which was greenish gray. These were bright, primary rainbow colors. Whenever anybody said his name, we were supposed to wave the finger puppets and say "AR AR AR ARRR!"

Still feeling gutted. Last time I lost somebody this close was 10 years ago when my cousin, who was more like a brother died. But this is different somehow. Or maybe I just don't remember how sad I was then. Perhaps grief is like childbirth and pregnancy and we develop pain amnesia so that we can continue to love after loss and have babies (plural) so the human race can continue. But I suppose it's different because you just can't just go develop a friendship history like that with somebody new once you're a married mom. It's just no longer appropriate. Particularly when the person is of the opposite sex.