death

Six years ago, early Friday morning. It was the last day before my 10th grade Spring Break. My family gets a call sometime around 4AM. I remember a rush of chaos filling my house - everyone scrambling to get dressed and take a breather to understand what was actually going on. I, on the other hand, had already assumed the worst...

... and I was right.


Bright flashing lights everywhere. It was déjà vu. Such a haunting scene had become all too familiar. Honestly, that shouldn't have been the case. It should never have been the case.

As I walked into the house, I couldn't help but to feel the chill all around. The first person to come to me was Jennie. She gave me a hug and through her tears she said, "He's gone."

Damn it.

My cousin, Johnny, was only 25. Why he had to take his own life, I never came to understand. He was a man striving to find God, looking for answers, wanting to help build back our family after his mom died. I should have known he was never over his mom being gone; but, no one could see through his tough facade.

He was only 25. I'm almost at the age when he died. The older I get, the more I try to understand why he did it. I still have no clue.

The more I try to forget, the more I remember. You know, I think I had to deal with a little too much during my teen years. For some it's inevitable, but no one should have to go through the pain of dealing with a deadly car accident or the suicide of a cousin.

Do you know what it's like? In some ways, I wish people did so I could have people that actually understand me. Then again, I hope they don't know what it's like because it's heart wrenching. That pain.

I bet that rose is still there with you. That's my love, my dearest cousin. I miss you.

I love you.