I read your name on the paper today

I read your name on the paper today, it was attached to a summary statistic: Male, 28 years old, murdered. It didn't quite process at first, after all, these things just don't happen everyday, not to us.

It was a strange feeling, being granted the ability to detach myself from it all as I read. I was a stranger, reading a piece on the paper, going over details of yet another violent case in an Island that seemed distant. However, it started pulling me in. The name and the stats were not only familiar- they were mine, ours. It all became an unwelcome feeling as I realized that hundreds of people grazed through the pages of the paper today, reading your name giving it no more than a passing thought. Your name, your 28 years, the circumstances of your death were wiped away for a second to hundreds of memories that are unique. For the love of all that's holy, I was there when you were born.

Male, 28 years, murdered. A little boy with a bright smile and beautiful blond hair runs through the garden and hands Lysania a small wild flower. An eight year old tags along with his dad, because the day is way too long and there are things to do, business to attend and then maybe later, a chance to catch up with the cousins at Mama Elisa's, and boy are you planning to have fun. A young man way too thin for his frame who against all odds manages to throw our way a smile that is sincere and warm waves goodbye before speeding away in his bike. We loved you, we couldn't help it.

Today I mourn your death and it's been all stages. I was mad for a while, really, really pissed as I struggled to contain my mother's tears and then inevitably, I gave way to some of my own.

I will celebrate what is worth celebrating because we are beyond if, what or why. I will celebrate the boy you were, and the man you might have been. If anything John, I'll do my best.

You'll always be remembered cousin.