On the 30th, my family went back to Montreal from the limbo between Montreal and Ottawa we had been staying in. Uncle Anthony's funeral was that day. First, we took the subway to a really pricey winter jacket store. The first one I liked had only one problem: that it wouldn't be possible to fit it into my locker at school, and I'd be getting frustrated. Then, I found a smaller one that didn't go down to my knees. It turned out to be a man's jacket, so I opted instead for the woman's version of that style. I didn't like it as much, but it did look better on me.
After the jacket store, we took the subway back to the van and got changed into our funeral garb. THEN, took the subway to the funeral home. It was a room full of people who knew me, but I didn't have a clue in heaven who they were. I got kissed on the cheek by at least two unknown relatives and kissed by two who I did know. I found out my cousin had a baby. Then, I sat awkwardly with my siblings as Angie went around bragging about my status as an author to everyone in sight.
That night, we drove to a city two hours past Montreal, so we'd be two hours closer to home.
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