02.14.2012

Here goes

It's always been timely when my cousin, Brett, has asked me, "What are we going to be when we grow up?"

There's this great satire there that I love about the question because we are–or, Jesus, we ought to be by now–grown up.

I'm 27.

Our aunt Jane died last month and it was, for me, the first death that was a) heart stabbing and b) unfounded, unruly, untimely and unfair. Our family met last weekend to celebrate her life and we all agreed that, when she was with you, she was with you. When Jane sat across from you, you were the only other person in the room. I've only met a few people like this in my life and I know now that I have to hang on to them because I didn't hang on to Jane, and I find myself wishing with a hole in my heart that I would have.

Of course, it's also times like these that make me question who I am and what I've become because, suddenly, there is this new idea; one that reflects that lost person. I certainly ask myself, "Who am I?", every day and I don't need death to wonder. But, perhaps, when you lose someone so special to you–someone that, after her life, keeps you wondering what she would have thought about this or that–then it is her qualities that you suddenly hope to have. It's so sad that I didn't recognize this before.

And so I am wondering what I could be and what I am. Those two people, whoever they are, seem to conflict in too many ways and, I suppose, I'll have to shed a lot of skin if I ever hope to be the better of them. What are we going to be? Well, who knows but here goes.

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