I wanted to stop by the funeral, see off Uncle Paul. Want isn’t the right word. I figured Uncle Paul would’ve gotten a kick out of it. My uncle’s letters tracked estrangement, being the outcast, seeing family only at funerals. Now it was his funeral, so it only seemed right. I hadn’t seen my half-siblings in twenty years. I walked towards my brother, “So, we gonna hug or say hi, or just no?” His eyes said no but he offered his arm stiffly. We embraced sideways, almost a no-touch hug. Plenty long enough. Let go and made my way outside.
Kat Marie Yoas is a queer humorist, writer, performer, candlemaker, birder, and psychotherapist. substack.com/@katmarieyoas Instagram: @omgkatmarie