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A week ago, my great-aunt died.

I didn't really know her; she fell between half-forgotten relative and cool older person on my relationship scale. She wasn't what you thought of when someone talks about their great aunt. She was younger than eighty and instead of spending time knitting in a rocking chair she would entertain guests and go to museums. When I almost drowned in her pool she didn't jump in after me but she had my dad there in an instant. She didn't pinch my cheeks but she taught me how to use chopsticks. Her basement fridge was stocked with Snapple for the kids and beer for everyone else.

Like I said, she was a pretty cool older person. I never really thought about her that way until she was dead, though. Or thought about her at all- she was just a fixed point in my mind, a part of the family history that would always be there.

I guess I felt a bit guilty as I laid a flower over the casket containing her ashes. It was the first funeral I had ever gone to. The light drizzle only confirmed that movie-stereotype that it always rains at funerals, and when I accidentally made eye contact with someone I wasn't sure if I ought to smile in greeting. The service was short and only a few people attended. Her grandson cried because of the damp and her granddaughter didn't want to let go of the flower she had picked to put in the grave. Neither of them really understood what all the fuss was about.

The last time I saw my great aunt we went to the Museum of Natural History in the city, over a year ago. At one point, my great uncle Johnny and I sat down in the one room full of all different rocks and minerals to rest his feet. It's that giant room next to the one with the meteorite in it. We got to talking about the universe.

"It's crazy that such a huge chunk of rock could fall out of the sky like that," I said absently, running my hands on the gray carpet.

"Well, I think if you look at it, the universe is full of crazy things like that. You see that rock and think, 'That's incredible,' because it is, but there are so many other things in the universe that are like that, ordinary but special, if you look for them."

"This isn't going to turn into a lecture about how useful math is, is it?"

"Math is useful, but that's not what I meant. I'm talking about things you see every day that have all kinds of hidden meanings that make them special."

"Like what?"

"Just look at the stars. We can't really see them here, because of the light we cast, but there are millions of stars in our galaxy. Isn't that incredible?"

"I've seen the Milky Way before, a couple of times."

"And didn't it awe you?"

"Yeah. But there were so many stars, they almost didn't seem to matter."

"But there might not even be that many. Do you know, half the stars in our galaxy could die, exploding into supernovas or burnt down to nothing, and we wouldn't even see it within our lifetime? Doesn't that make the stars more special, because each time you see them could be the very last?"

"I guess."

I didn't really get it then. I was too young, I suppose.

Maybe the carpet was just more interesting.

Description
A week ago, my great-aunt died.

I didn't really know her; she fell between half-forgotten relative and cool older person on my relationship scale. She wasn't what you thought of when someone talks about their great aunt. She was younger than eighty and instead of spending time knitting in a rocking chair she would entertain guests and go to museums. When I almost drowned in her pool she didn't jump in after me but she had my dad there in an instant. She didn't pinch my cheeks but she taught me how to use chopsticks. Her basement fridge was stocked with Snapple for the kids and beer for everyone else.

Like I said, she was a pretty cool older person. I never really thought about her that way until she was dead, though. Or thought about her at all- she was just a fixed point in my mind, a part of the family history that would always be there.

I guess I felt a bit guilty as I laid a flower over the casket containing her ashes. It was the first funeral I had ever gone to. The light drizzle only confirmed that movie-stereotype that it always rains at funerals, and when I accidentally made eye contact with someone I wasn't sure if I ought to smile in greeting. The service was short and only a few people attended. Her grandson cried because of the damp and her granddaughter didn't want to let go of the flower she had picked to put in the grave. Neither of them really understood what all the fuss was about.

The last time I saw my great aunt we went to the Museum of Natural History in the city, over a year ago. At one point, my great uncle Johnny and I sat down in the one room full of all different rocks and minerals to rest his feet. It's that giant room next to the one with the meteorite in it. We got to talking about the universe.

"It's crazy that such a huge chunk of rock could fall out of the sky like that," I said absently, running my hands on the gray carpet.

"Well, I think if you look at it, the universe is full of crazy things like that. You see that rock and think, 'That's incredible,' because it is, but there are so many other things in the universe that are like that, ordinary but special, if you look for them."

"This isn't going to turn into a lecture about how useful math is, is it?"

"Math is useful, but that's not what I meant. I'm talking about things you see every day that have all kinds of hidden meanings that make them special."

"Like what?"

"Just look at the stars. We can't really see them here, because of the light we cast, but there are millions of stars in our galaxy. Isn't that incredible?"

"I've seen the Milky Way before, a couple of times."

"And didn't it awe you?"

"Yeah. But there were so many stars, they almost didn't seem to matter."

"But there might not even be that many. Do you know, half the stars in our galaxy could die, exploding into supernovas or burnt down to nothing, and we wouldn't even see it within our lifetime? Doesn't that make the stars more special, because each time you see them could be the very last?"

"I guess."

I didn't really get it then. I was too young, I suppose.

Maybe the carpet was just more interesting.