My brother picked me up first thing this morning and we drove down to my uncle’s memorial service. My brother was only 9 or so when my parents split, and since I went to live with my father and he lived with my mother, we kind of didn’t “grow up” together. We’ve never lived in the same city since, so despite the reason, it was kind of nice to have some hours alone together to talk and laugh about musical taste, and to revel in his new son who’ll be 3 weeks old this Sunday.

The service was very nice – my cousins spoke well about their father and there was humour and tears in equal measure, which I’m sure my uncle would appreciate. And the people I saw – many I hadn’t seen in 20 years or so. People whose childish faces I recognized in their adult form. People who brought back memories from the 70s and 80s.

A tough morning and a sad reason to see old friends of the family, but oddly uplifting.