My cousin Mike has always been my favorite cousin. He and I don’t see each other often enough. I was in Minneapolis for a weekend art show and a rock concert. Mike suggested a baseball game.

We drove to the stadium and walked over to the game. It’s right across the street from First Avenue and has lots of fun bars around the stadium. We got seats behind home plate with a beautiful view of the city. We loaded up with brats and beer and as I sat there on a perfect Spring Day with my cousin, I missed my husband Bill. The whole weekend I had been crying off and on and Bill’s family didn’t really know what to do or say to me. My cousin Mike, who I hadn’t talked to or been around in years, noticed my tears and put his arm around me. That’s it. And that’s all it took. Grief is confusing to people, but it doesn’t have to be complicated to comfort someone.

Bill and I fantasized about visiting every MLB Stadium in one season. It was a retirement plan. The plastic mountain goat was in my purse at my feet. I could see him poking out of the junk in my purse and it was that moment that I promised the Mountain Goat that I would take him to all the MLB parks.