Sunday, October 7, 2012

my cousin (25 years ago)

my cousin died 25 years ago in a senseless incident. My cousin drowned. It's the worst possible death one could have, he was 19 years old. When I was born, he came from Kenya to visit me for a year. His mother and sisters also came for a year, they went to school with my brother and sister and they would hang around the family all the time. I heard he was very friendly and sweet and he even had a crush on a couple of girls.

What is morbid to me is that those women are now 40-something and they are married with kids. The tragedy is that a 19 year old had a life ahead of him that never lived, because he died so young. I'm an old man comapred to him, and even though he was a much older cousin when I was born, I have no memory of him; he will stay forever young. I think the lucky ones in life grow old, and perhaps because of the way we mistreat the elderly, we become unlucky again with how the elderly are treated, if we ever get to that age.

They say youth is wasted on the young. My life is wasted due to the lack of opportunity. Lots of shit upset me today. Lots of stuff in my life making me feel hopeless. But today I thought also about other people in my family. I thought about what tragedy it was for two younger sisters to lose their older brother. How it must feel to be his friends, now in their early-mid 40s, around 44-45 years old, remembering a friend who was alive a lifetime ago.

I am unable to mourn him, because I didnt know him and there is just a gap, a nonexistent memory. I knew that he used to enjoy my company as a baby. I am sure he watched me and considered me a novelty in the similar way that I love carrying my little niece, although now she's growing up and can walk now. Everyone is moving on....

There was something said at the memorial earlier, it was something to the effect of: when (my cousin) died, he broke our hearts in two, a small piece and a big piece. The small piece was what he left behind, and the large piece was with you (i.e my cousin). It's sort of soppy and you might think its cringeworthy, but the way I see that little metaphor, is to say that his loss was a devastation that one could never recover from, and that's not cute, or sweet. It was a reality for my cousins and everyone that knew him well. But I never knew him...I want to say I feel sad at that, but I don't even know if I can. It's just a void, someone who I hear lots about in fond terms, I hear about him holding me but it feels like it doesn't involve me at all.

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