On Thursday, I went back to New Jersey for the wake of my step-grandmother Marion’s mother. It was my first family funeral since my grandfather’s and it was different. It was so much smaller — more intimate — than my grandfathers.

We had to have two sessions and two rooms dedicated to his wake. Hundreds, thousands of people came that day. We shook all of their hands. Thanked them for the well wishes and moved on to the next person in the line. It was very long, very emotional and very surreal. It was almost like an out of body experience. I remember it, but I don’t remember being there for it.

The one thing that really sticks out to me is talking to a reporter from The Star-Ledger. I’ve actually reached out to her for this story and she’s sent me a few connections. We actually work in neighboring buildings in New York City now, which just goes to show how small a world it is.

At the wake for Marion’s mother, there were so many photos of my grandfather, and I’m in many of them too. It’s weird seeing yourself as a kid, knowing what you know. With his life cut so short, is there more I could have done while he was still alive? I know these are questions that don’t have answers, but I thought them when I was there. Sometimes, you just can’t help it.