My mind is racing tonight, I admit it and ask for your patience. I say goodbye today to my cousin. We've lost her to addiction. But addiction is not what I want to talk about. Plenty of people talk about that, so I'll leave it to them.
I want to talk about my cousin. I have not seen her much since she was a small child, and now she has a small child of her own. I want to tell someone who she was, in my eyes. When I think of her, I don't think of an addict. That's easy for me, I didn't see her in those times.
I think of the woman who always made me feel good about myself, my son, my life. She always had a ready compliment, genuinely felt, honestly meant. She would tell me how pretty she thought I was, how handsome my son is (which I don't get because he's got ears that look like a taxi cab driving with the doors open, but she meant it!), how nice my husband is. Always a smile, a big huge light up a room smile, she had. Always a kind word. In the middle of her demons, in the middle of her fight, she would bolster anyone up. She had time and kindness for everyone. And I'm ashamed I did not have more for her.
I don't have the struggles or the demons she had. But she made a moment for me. Every time I saw her. She was bright and beautiful and kind, living in the middle of darkness. And I'm left wondering. How have I failed? I have a wonderful marriage, a son who's figuring it out, a beautiful home, amazing friends. And, as it always is, it's only now that I will no longer have her positivism, that I actually see it. I am ashamed.
I have not given what I've received. My cousin was an addict, but if you think that means she had no worth or value, you're a moron. She was valuable, she was worthy, she was beautiful.
I just though there would be more time, we always think that, don't we? I thought I'd get around to going out with her and her daughter, maybe they'd come over for a princess day. I'd find time. And now there is none. So, I'm really writing this for all my cousins. (And I've got a ton!) I don't know what time we have. But let's make some. I miss you. We all grew up together, good and bad, but together. I think it's the best way to honor her, be what she was for us. A bright light in the darkness. The next time I invite you to a party, come. The next time you have a free day, give me a call, let's see if we can get to know each other now. Let's not wait. I waited to make time for her, and now she's gone. And there's no time left.
I know some of my cousins lived with her in her darkness. I know that had to be hard. But it doesn't have to be what's left. Let's keep our hearts open to each other, because hers was open. And before you argue, remember, this is how I saw her. I saw her open, and beautiful, and smiling, and wanting to love and wanting to be loved.
Let's be the family she wanted and needed us to be. Let's be the people she wanted and needed us to be. Let's just be family again.
I've been missing my cousin. And now I'll miss her every day. Please don't make me miss the rest of you.
