Reckoning with adult orphanhood, ghosts, and the stranger who spoke at my mom’s funeral as if she knew her — Sometimes, death is sudden. It jumps out at you like a mugger in a dark alley. Blackout. The next thing you know, you’re awake, alive, at your mother’s funeral, in harsh daylight, and a stranger, a pretty young hippie woman coming down from a mushroom trip, is standing up, telling…