Maybe these words aren't apropos. Maybe in a tragedy all anyone wants to hear is reasons to be miserable or ways to cope. But that's not fair to my cousin's memory. Maybe a part of me is mad at him for being un-vigilant in that one horrific moment. Maybe I loved his son very much, and everyone was afraid to say they felt anger. But, from what I understand, anger is a very natural thing to feel. But, perhaps in our sadness, perhaps in the no-entirely-complete devotion to his Catholic faith, perhaps in the shock of all that we went through, we completely forgot to talk about how awesome my cousin was. Perhaps the guilt floated across my mind as I thought about how, if I'd called him just to say hi as I'd meant to do in the near future (I was just sitting around at work... my call would've messed up the timing of the accident. Perhaps I was too busy holding people's hand. Perhaps I was too busy crying, and then being confused because I don't understand death, and too busy being angry that all anyone could seem to publicly talk about was my cousin's struggles or his love for his son. But, ow I'm not. I was miserable all that weekend of the funeral, and probably still am, but I think that I can see little bit clearer now.
My cousin, whose name in my older sister's rendering is nearly monosyllabic, was freaking cool. The guy was so real, and so human. When he spoke, you knew that he was being honest. You knew that he knew about his past but had come to terms with it and only wanted to move forward, have fun, and be a good dad. But, in addition to all of that, he wanted to know you. He didn't care what you believed, he just seemed to think that it was cool that you cared about something or had put thought into it. This guy was both young in his curiosity and zest (I love to remember that Jesus is quoted as having told the apostles to "be like the children") and very mature in his sense of responsibility. I'm heartbroken, in part, because I was really looking forward to becoming better friends with him. I feel like, in a tragedy of death, we're all so consumed by the loss and by missing him that we wonder if we will ever meet him again (and then make our decision about). Even to those who believe vociferously that we will see him if we choose to believe the correct thing and say the correct words, you can be damned sure that it won't be like this. Maybe it'll be better, but, in that case, knowing what it was like here on earth, with all of its shortcomings compared to heaven, was still pretty freaking cool.
I can't process the loss of his young son yet, but dammit if the boy's father didn't die living. We love to listen to songs about people who live like they were dying, but I think that he kinda was. I'm angry that he took his son with him, and deeply saddened for the even more amazing man that he was going to become that I'll never get to know, but the guy. died. living. You know who else died living? My grandma. Woman fell ill and went to her death bed while on a trip to see my brother's show. That same spirit lives in many of my family members. A different cousin went skiing the day after the funeral. And that guy is a father of multiple children. His father bicycles all around the Midwest and mountain region. And I'm glad. My aforementioned older sister is an aerial dancer. I go cliff rock jumping and take zillions of road trips.
I think that, when we lose someone we love, there is a piece of us that dies and doesn't grow back. But, hopefully, if we let it, a new vitality for life springs up from the very soil of the dead piece of our heart. I have felt more feisty and sure of myself since my same-age cousin died in that accident. I can't live with enough vim for 3 high-energy guys, but I'm damned sure gonna try to use all of my own energy and live as much as I can figure out how to. I'll miss him forever, but he did not die in vain. He was real, and we were kindred spirits in some ways. I want to be real like him, and take a genuine interest in others. May my cousin's love for life inspire you, as well.
Verbosely yours, Michael
I realize this is not a recent post, however I'd still like to offer my condolences. My mother died this summer, less than 12 hours after we found out she was cancer-free. I wish for that new vitality you spoke of. I want to believe that the best is yet to come. It gives hope that there is an end to this dark and lonely tunnel of grief.
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