My stepfather died Monday afternoon.

I took the red-eye to Miami and joined the mass of friends and relatives.

What followed was a mix of normalcy and grief – family board games punctuated by sobbing.

There was the hilarious late-night trip to a West Little Havana crematory, where the owner thought my mother brought my uncles and I to rob him.

There were the hours of work snuck in between visits to my stepfather’s banks and former doctors.

And there was people watching on South Beach, which only reminded my mother of what her husband was missing.

I come back to Minnesota’s snow and ice in a few days.
Normalcy for my mother will take a bit longer.