There’s a new coffee shop in town.
I went to the one in Delray once. (Which, if you’re following the drama, Ron DeSantis’ goons dumped dollar store paint over our rainbow crosswalk and now it’s a weird mix of colors. And there’s a whole lawsuit that’s cost him and us a quarter-million each.) But they were so rude to me, I walked out.
There’s another location of this shop across from the funeral home where I took Mom. I always blow a kiss toward the building where she was last on this earth. But I never dared to stop.
Today I did the kiss and blew past the shop. But I decided to do a U-ie and try something I’d seen pop up on Faceypages.
OK first of all, the PSL was the best I’ve had maybe ever.
The logo is a dead ringer for the Palm Tree Beach Club at the MGM Hotel in Vegas. So, that made me happy.
What else made me happy was the key lime bagel bomb. The thing on Faceypages.
There was no bagel. This was really like a boston creme donut but with key lime custard throughout and not just a squirt.
It was strange sitting across from the funeral home.
Nice. But weird.
Mom picked that place.
There’s another one closer to our apartment. They seem to have six snazzy hearses but not too many funerals.
They get high-profile ones, though. Ben Crump took on a high-profile death — when police killed a little Black boy on a bicycle in our roadway — and I forgot and drove past. That place was PACKED. As was the roadway. As it should have been.
In any event, Mom always said please don’t take me there. She had a better feeling about the one by the coffee shop.
Sitting there in the lot today with my bagel bomb, I thought about that day momma left.
One of my employees had a psychic flash about mom. She had texted me to say we were on her heart. She asked if I was ok.
I was like I’m good, thanks for asking.
That was a Sunday. The next Monday when Mom’s ashes were ready, I texted my managers that I needed to run out and pick up Mom’s ashes and that I’d be back in an hour.
They about fell over.
I just hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. That manager had just lost her dad. Another manager had just lost HIS dad. Like, we were a sad fuckin bunch. I kind of wanted to give them more time to mourn their parents before I smacked them with my own great big loss.
I also got to thinking about the funeral director. I was probably the only customer who ever asked for a tour.
I don’t mean a tour of the pink and blue viewing rooms in that old-fashioned place.
I’m like show me the office. The crematory.
TELL ME WHERE MY MOM IS. I can handle it.
And they showed me. I mean, they didn’t take me to her body. But they took me as far as they could.
I drove around the building to where she was being kept cold till her idiot doctor could come and sign the death certificate. It took forever because it was a holiday but also because he couldn’t find his ass with both hands.
Like I told her when I got her ashes, naturally the medical profession had to let you down one more time.
I was horrified to see the funeral home flag at half-staff today.
Mom would have been rolling over in her grave if I’d buried her.
She was the kindest person I ever knew, after my grandfather. She would have been absolutely outraged that a fascist, xenophobic, sexist, anti-intellectual twit with a podcast got that honor.
I often think about how she and my grandmother loved current events.
They were quite informed enough to be outraged about them. I get that from them.
My grandfather believed that too — you can be outraged as long as you are informed about it first.
Anyway, while I think Momma would have been outraged about that twerp on earth, I have no doubt she won’t run into him in the afterlife.
I follow some witches who said Twerpy (which is what Momma called Magic the cat; it’s they nicest thing I can type here) was quite confused on the other side.
It isn’t like he thought it would be.
He was still sitting on that stage wondering what the hell happened.
And when he realized he wasn’t exactly being welcomed into the almighty’s loving arms, he panicked.
The witches said a day or so later that his life review wasn’t going as well as he expected it would.
Ts and Ps.
Or Chants and Spells, as I say.
Anyway, I wish Mom could have tried that key lime bomb.
That would have meant she was in the car with me and that we were having a nice day together.
But my hope is she licked some of that icing and got to enjoy it vicariously.
And while I’m wildly sad that she won’t get to enjoy good foods again, knowing Twerpy will be reunited with his king — the Pumpkin King — soon enough gives me some joy to offset that.
