I never would have thought my Halloween this year would involve driving the Ecto-1 with a Ghostbuster as my copilot, on my way to catch a flight for my grandmother’s funeral — on the anniversary of my brother’s death. But here we are.

How’s that for a hook, social media copywriters?

But to be serious, a few days ago, my son went through a Ghostbusters phase. We watched Frozen Empire together, and he’s been listening to the Ghostbusters theme non-stop on loop. Who ya gonna call? So, as a responsible parent, the moment I saw Waze had a cross-promotion with Ghostbusters, I jumped at it for some car ride fun. The icon turned into the Ecto-1, and Dan Aykroyd (or a voice actor, couldn’t tell) was giving us directions. It was a bit annoying, but he got a kick out of it.

About two weeks ago, my grandmother was recovering from heart surgery that she hadn’t told anyone about (mostly because she never wanted us grandkids to worry about her — she always kept her health private from us). The surgery was “successful”, but a few days later, she suffered a major stroke that paralyzed most of her body, rendering her unable to talk, open her eyes, or do much of anything other than squeeze a hand and wiggle her foot. I dropped everything, flew out the next day to see her, and spent a couple of days visiting with her.

Two days ago, I got the call that she had passed. And yesterday, I got notice that her funeral would be this weekend. It wasn’t ideal, but I dropped literally everything (sorry, work friends), did some scheduling gymnastics, and the next thing I knew, I was waiting for an Uber to take me to the airport. And waiting. And waiting. The perks of living in a desert.

Finally, the Uber was canceled on their end. With time ticking and refusing to take a break from doing so, I quickly booked parking and jumped into our Kona. I had faith Waze would get me there in time. I had completely forgotten about the settings I changed for the kiddo.

So there I was on October 31st — the 16th anniversary of my brother’s passing — fighting LA morning traffic with the Ghostbusters. I made it, though, got to the airport, breezed through security, answered some quick work messages (see, I didn’t forget about you, work friends), and hopped on my last-minute, no-legroom flight from LA to Detroit.

Which is where I am now, sitting here, typing this. I think I’m just trying not to think about it, to be honest.

My grandmother was closer to me than anyone — well, anyone older than me. I would randomly surprise her when I still lived in Michigan by just knocking at her door when I was in the neighborhood (even though I had a key, it was the polite thing to do). Even after I moved out of state, I always stopped by whenever I was in town, no matter the occasion. When I was younger, I had a special blue “Going to Grandma’s” suitcase just for those visits, and when I fell on hard times in my 20s, she didn’t hesitate to take me in.

Some context — my grandmother wasn’t exactly a frail old lady. She walked and exercised almost every day, wasn’t obese at any time in her life, had no chronic medical conditions, and ate healthily. That’s part of why it was such a shock when she had the stroke and later passed. She’s the one who took care of herself. She was full of energy, playing with Quintin just a few months ago in the same room where I’d played with her three decades earlier. Q even has his own set of “Grandma Ina’s House” toys—ones my brothers and I played with, somehow still in pristine condition, preserved in the museum that was her basement.

So yeah, it was a shock. We all thought she had at least 15 more years left, and I had just talked to her about a group trip with my family to Tennessee to visit her sister. Plans that will never come to pass.

So, where am I at? Tears have come and gone, and they’ll come again this week, for sure. She was my buddy, the rock in my life I could always lean on. I guess I don’t know what else to say other than I’ll miss you, Grandma, and I’ll never stop loving you. Thank you for being an amazing role model and friend, for supporting me when I was down, and for being excited for me when things were going well. And thank you for the political trash-talking only you could serve up with your tempered wit and Southern accent. I don’t watch much TV, but I loved every moment watching it with you for hours on end—from the news to Once Upon a Time to Dancing with the Stars. I loved every minute of it, and I already miss you terribly.

(P.S.—crying on a plane makes people around you nervous. It’s not COVID, I swear!)