This story just took me out. I was a sniffling mess on the train. The combination of heartbreak and humour in this story is unforgettable.

My grandmother was in the backseat, tucked away neatly inside my mother’s tote bag. We hit a bump and a corner of the bag tilted downward, revealing the tiniest peek of her bronze urn. I turned back to the road ahead, wishing it were my father in the passenger seat and me in the back, watching a living Nana grimace as Dad cracked jokes about phallic-sounding town names on exit signs and trying to convince us all to play yet another round of “I Spy”. 

Then again, my father in his current state probably wouldn’t be the best road trip companion. We might get away with driving in the carpool lane, but there’d be too much dirt and other matter to clean out of the faux leather seats, to say nothing of the smell.