Death is something I have not had to confront much in my life. The idea that life on earth is finite has always been clear to me. But when you lose someone close to you, that clarity does not make dealing with their death any easier. Several months ago, I lost my cousin. I wouldn’t say we were all that close, although he may disagree. After all, we did live together for nearly two years. We both lived with our aunt in California but for very different reasons. I was out there for college while he was looking for a new start. Bursting with optimism, he always found himself at the butt-end of my jokes. No matter what I said or how many times I would prank him, he would always crack a smile or even take shots at my nasally voice or my wiry build. Like any of us, he had demons from his past, however, unlike most of us those demons impacted his day to day life. He used to bribe me with free food so I would drive him to work everyday. With three DUIs on his record, he was unable to drive until he proved over time that he could kick his drinking and driving habit.
Ultimately it was a lesson he never got to live out.
To this day I am still struggling with the concept that he is truly gone. Death is a hard thing to process when it introduces itself to you. After the initial shock and grief, something deep within me still did not believe he was gone. Perhaps he’s not. Maybe the people you love never really leave you. My cousin and I can never have dinner together again but when I have a beer, it is like he’s right next to me. I instantly am transported back to a time when he was alive. I recall the honest conversations we had about his addiction, his certainty that alcohol would not get the better of him. And just before I take my first sip, I remember he’s gone. Since his death, alcohol has become a very different experience for me. His incredibly complicated, adventurous, powerful existence has ended, but his essence remains with me until the day I die.
As I grow older, death is becoming an all too familiar presence. I am blessed to be able to say that my grandparents are my best friends. Legitimate friends and over the course of them raising me, that bond has only gotten stronger. When I think back on my childhood; vivid memories wash over my mind. My grandma, pitching fastballs to me. My Nani, playing classical music in the car because she read in an article that it would advance my brain development. My Tot, showing me how to pull weeds easier; teaching me the importance of smart work rather than hard work. As I get older our paths cross less frequently than I would like, but still, everyday their wisdom walks alongside me.
Lately, the deterioration of their bodies and minds is becoming more and more evident. As this is happening, I’m having to prepare myself for the inevitable. I’m going to lose some of my best friends soon.
In life there are so many things we can change and make our own. Death is not one of them. Just like you do not decide to be heartbroken, you do not decide when you die. It is a part of our path. The end of this journey. An uncertain end but an end to our time in this world nonetheless. But some parts of us never die. Our words can outlive us. Our life, our impact, our contributions; all essences of who we are, those will remain. My grandparents do not know what is ahead for them, but they take solace in knowing that their legacy will live on through me. My cousin’s body died too soon, but his impact will never be forgotten by me. Yes we die, but who we are today could remain with someone for as long as they live. Imagine if you or I lived with this in mind. Perhaps maybe we should start.