“Welcome.” Smart Alec Brother Gyaltso folds into a deep bow from his spot on the floor. Everyone smiles at Willy and me as we stand in the doorway, hesitant and awkward as fuck. Because there is no way either of us can comfortably get down to or up from those raggedy little cushions. But God love Wendy, she goes and merges a couple of chairs into the formation without us even having to ask.

“Now, what? We bow to the Almighty Egg?” Willy cracks, loud enough to make me wince.

Wendy unleashes one of her infamously discordant peals of laughter. Allie and the strangers chuckle. Gyaltso smiles, all benevolently Cheshire Cat-ish.

“That” — Wendy’s tone settles from jangly laugh to sales-pitchy chimes — “is a Crann Na Beatha Burial Pod. Anyone care to try it on for size?”

“Let’s save the Crann Na Beatha conversation for the end, Wendy,” Gyaltso says. “We will open with a group bow, to acknowledge the primordial wisdom and sacred intelligence in each of us as we embark on this journey into the unknown together.” But nothing undermines a wise and sacred vibe quite like a three-hundred-pound buddy named Tooker letting a fart rip as he bows. Gyaltso, again with the Cheshire Cat face, “Wendy, open a window please.”

We go around the circle to introduce ourselves and say what drew us to a community conversation about Doing Death Right. Allie talks about her mother, about her own frightening thoughts about death as an escape from pain and drudgery. Tooker talks about finding his own father dead of a heart attack in the backyard, how nobody ever let him talk about it, and how scared he is that his own son will find him the same way someday. An old blue-haired, droopy-faced scratch named Neilina is there because all her old scratch friends are dropping like flies. A young blue-haired, face-pierced, tattooed Townie named Kersti says her friends are ODing left, right, and centre. And an old backwoods rubber booter hippy named Barb says she came because she is just so intrigued by the mysterious wonder of it all. When it’s my turn, I don’t even know where to start.

I’m here because I feel bad about being such a shit friend to Allie, and to spy on The Wendigo and make sure she loves her the way she deserves. Or, I’m here to suss out what kind of business my newly undead fake-father real half-brother is plotting, and how I might be able to get in on the ground level and make a few bucks to pay for Cletus’s diapers and therapy. Or, My mother probably killed herself and I miss her more than words can say, so I’m just here for the tea and squares. Instead, I blurt out, “Hi I’m Crow. How ’bout being nice to me? I’ll be dead soon.”

Loops of nervous orange and shards of wounded blue stop me from saying more, as they gush up into the air around Willy, Allie, and even a touch around Smart Alec Brother Gyaltso. Like what I just said is somehow news to them. Willy hauls himself straight up in his chair and gives me a bit of the side eye.