Caterwauling

I landed in Pittsburgh Friday and immediately drove to a restaurant Mom and I used to love.

She and her friend since seventh grade (!) used to go there too.

So the friend and I met there.

I haven’t told her much. But I was ready to give her any details she wanted. Within reason, of course. The really gruesome shit stays with me.

I did tell her how I appreciated her waiting for me to come around to the idea of talking. Sworn to secrecy for years. It’s hard to break out of that.

Also being in Florida, far away from anyone who REALLY knew us, it was easy to be in that bubble.

I don’t want to be in that bubble anymore. Not by myself.

I didn’t cry much. I stayed pretty matter-of-fact. Am a Gemini, after all.

But I could see her struggling. And I acknowledged that. To get hit with “Your best friend died” from me … 30 days after she was gone … and then all this detail that she frankly didn’t even know to ask about.

She acknowledged that I was in the thick of it and had to watch her decline. So she understood that I probably had a lot to rearrange inside my head after everything changed so drastically.

I know they’ve had their issues over the years. Heck, I know I’ve had my own issues with this friend not BEING a friend.

There were times over lunch that I looked at her and wondered, should I answer that or should I offer this. But I think Mom would be OK with my choices.

After all, we’re all facing our own mortality here. When the sparkling-est, happiest, most ALIVE person among us can’t survive, how the fuck are the rest of us going to make it?

Fast-forward a day to the Queen’s birthday party. I didn’t say much about Mom. I don’t know that anyone even asked.

Someone did say, “I’m sorry for your loss,” and I can’t remember if I had the wherewithal to say I’m sorry for yours.

They’ve had a lot of loss.

Cousin E., of course.

The baby’s paternal great-grandfather died in September and then the great-grandmother’s ROOF GOT RIPPED OFF during Hurricane Milton two weeks ago.

And when I asked why Cousin L. called MY cousin M. when she was on her baby moon to say get your ass home because E. was just diagnosed with colorectal and liver cancer …

That’s because when E & L’s Mom — my grandmother’s best friend and my great-aunt Mary — had a cancer recurrence, she didn’t tell anyone.

Aunt Mary took herself to treatments alone and her hair fell out. That’s how they knew.

L. said no more secrets. We go through everything together now.

Aunt Mary died at 67. Same age as E. Which I didn’t know.

And L. took care of her daddy for 19 years.

Just like MY mom took care of HER daddy after Gram died.

I was pretty tear-free until I saw L.

Saw and HEARD.

OH MY GOD — they were half-sisters.

(E.’s dad was my great-uncle Tom Pe., my grandfather’s brother and mom’s favorite uncle … while L’s dad was my OTHER great-uncle Tom Pi. Yes, Mary married two Tom Ps.)

But they look and sound like twins.

I laid eyes on L and just BAWLED.

Then I overheard her say something to my (first) cousin. Totally E. in voice, tone and word choice. And I fucking lost it.

I looked at L. and just saw her marked with sadness. She said to me, god, you look so much like Robin.

That’s the only time Mom came up at the party. And that was the best way possible.

I didn’t bring her up. Not till the masses (my cousin’s weird Trumpy dad and all his weird Trumpy relatives) left.

I feel like I should bring her up more. And I do, more causally via advice she shared or fun things we did or crazy jokes we had. Not so much the sad stuff.

I was fine till L. left the party. She came over for a hug and I just CRIED.

L was telling me how they LOVED when my grandma would come over. I said I remember they would always bake stuff and make pierogis. We would have pierogi for days and no one has ever them so good.

L. said Gram used to have long, beautiful natural nails. And she and E. would fight over who would get their backs scratched first.

I forgot all about that. It opened a memory for me. When I would sleep over at my grandparents’ house, Gram would always wash my hair and give me a scalp massage with those nails.

Huh. Suddenly I’m 5 years old again.

And suddenly I’m 6 and standing in L’s pink bedroom and E’s purple one. I always liked the pink better. But I loved how rock ‘n roll E. always was. Her room matched her.

Anyway when L. left, I just looked at her and cried. I hugged her so damn hard.

I felt L’s sadness about not talking to her sister every day anymore.

I felt her aching for her mom who died so many years ago. And for her dad, who passed in November 2022 and then we lost E. in September 2023.

Later when it was just us first cousins, the baby and my cousin’s best friend, it was the first time my cousin M. cried.

I mean, it was my fault. I told her a story she didn’t know, one I’ve been holding on to because it’s sad and not appropriate for text. And of course when I went to hug her, one of her dogs (Teddy) went apeshit because YOU DON’T TOUCH MY MOM.

Teddy is in red. Ollie (with spots) was my homeboy.

I did get another hug at Trax Farms the next day. Which MY mom and I loved to go to.

So, that was partially in Mom’s honor. And of course partially because the baby was SO DAMN CUTE with all those pumpkins.

I come back different from every trip I take now. Knocking out all the firsts, I guess.

It hit me hard as I landed in LaGuardia that everyone was texting their loved ones.

That but my phone didn’t have anyone who cared where I was.

Or, for that matter, who KNEW where I was.

So I texted Momma. Which I said on the socials.

During the baby’s party, I got a cute pic of the baby and her cousin. E. loved that little boy more than anyone did. Perhaps more than anyone will, I would gather, from the limited interactions I witnessed.

I texted that pic to Momma’s phone. “Make sure E. sees this one,” I said.

I told my cousin about it hours later. She understands.

I was joking with her husband later that I introduced myself to someone as the weird cousin from Florida. Then he told me about his family and said, nah, you’re the only normal one to come out of Florida in my circle.

I like him so much. I gave the baby all kinds of cool clothes, among other things. He saw the leather skirt and said, “Oh this has GOT to be from Dawn.”

My best friend, when I told her, said well of course — you’re the stylish one in every room! Which was funny because obviously I’m a West Palm 4 but I am DEFINITELY a Pittsburgh 10.

Heck, I went to Eat & Park for breakfast before Trax. And the server marveled that I only went to the buffet once.

Meanwhile I was like helllooooo slowpokes! Someone cash me out because I have places to be! Island time is for FLORIDA.

I’m not kidding about the Pittsburgh 10. I looked around and thought man, I feel sorry for myself for not having a beach body but I’m also not entirely a beach BALL either. Breathe a bit and eat a cookie already.

Which I did, in the airport. Several. I mean, my flight was only delayed six hours and I had a whole carry-on full of Trax goodies!

My friend Jamie posited that maybe I keep getting stuck in airports because the universe wants me to relocate.

What if I did listen to my cousin and move up there?

I could watch the baby grow up. And finally, FINALLY have family.

Or would we all just drift and not make the effort the way we do now?

OR … would I finally find someone who’s a “10” in any city, because there sure aren’t any here?!

Jetted up to Pittsburgh for the weekend.

Strange to type words like that. I’ve waited my whole life to say I want to fly somewhere and then just GO there.

Thanks to the amazing cat sitter I hired, now I can.

I was invited to the party of the year. My baby cousin’s first birthday party.

It’s a fun story when you think about it.

My mom and her first cousin E were best friends.

Mom had me young and E had her kids older. So, I was graduating high school when she had her son.

I didn’t meet her daughter at all. Not till last year when I had two Eras Tour tickets (for me and Mom) and Mom was too sick to go to Pittsburgh.

I was going to take my soon-to-be ex. Meanwhile my cousin — at the urging of E., who clearly suspected she was sick but wasn’t telling any of us that — to go find Mom and me on Faceypages.

Anyway, the MUCH shorter version of the story that I tell people who ask is that M. and I met at the Eras Tour, and she was pregnant. Now here I am coming back a year later to meet her Taylor Tot.

OK maybe I should have just led with that. 😀

It was an emotional trip for many reasons. It was exhausting and spiritually fulfilling and full of hills just like the ones I drove in that Audi I ended up with.

I reserved a Mustang, as I always do. But the rental people left me in the lot so long — frozen in my tank top and shorts as it was 87% humidity in Florida when I left — that I said fuck it what can you give me. And it was this tall, sweet Audi.

I say tall because Anthony opened the trunk for me to unload all my presents for the baby and her mom.

And i couldn’t reach the trunk to close it. I was jumping up like a jumping bean and poor Anthony was doubled over in laughter.

He said you know there’s a button and I said NO I DON’T KNOW because I am a short person who asked for a SHORT CAR.

Anyway, now I have an Audi on my “must buy” list. Right next to the house on my cousin’s street that would allow me to see the baby every day.

So much more to say. But I was stuck in LaGuardia for six hours because they had to locate a pilot for us.

And I didn’t get home till 2 a.m. And my formerly clean car was disgustingly dirty and smelled like the moldy ass airport when I was reunited with it.

But, still. So glad I made the trip. Even though my body and brain are freaking jet-lagged after a three-hour flight in the same time zone.