This breaks the seal on my mother’s side of the family. My mother has seven brothers and sisters, all with spouses. Until yesterday, they were all still around. Getting much older and more infirm, but around. One of my greatest fears in moving to the desert was that my aunts and uncles would die while I was away from home. It’s coming true and I hate it.

Dear, sweet Rosie always had time for me and my wife, always kind and caring. She worked in the office of the high school I attended. She always had a smile for her dorky nephew, years younger than the youngest of her children. Her smile, her manner, always caring, always nice. She was one of the people it was a joy to see and talk with.

The fall before we moved she had given me some crocks, big stone crocks. We wanted to do some sauerkraut. They turned out to be antiques, from her grandparents. None of her children wanted them. Redwing and before, the smaller one was from the 1880s, still not chipped and flawless. Actually worth some money. They came over and watched while we pounded raw cabbage and salt into a frothy, liquid-y mess weighted the cabbage and covered them for fermentation. It was a lovely afternoon with them and friends.

She was my oldest uncle’s wife. He’s devastated and I honestly don’t expect him to live more than a year. This is what happens, especially when the wife dies first. The other follows. You can see it written on headstones. “Wife, 1917-1984” “Husband, 1915-1985” They tend to follow each other. I don’t want it to be so, but it is.

So I’m going back home. There’s more going on at home that I’m not ready to talk about, but none of it is good. I’m skipping a business trip I had planned to Monaco, because this takes precedence. I don’t mind that, there will be other trips to Europe.

I’m going to see my aunts and uncles. Probably going to see first cousins I haven’t seen, some in decades. Everyone will be older, greyer, more frail. But I will see them.

And say goodbye to Rosie.