Chase

Witness protection.

I was thinking today about how much cognitive dissonance I feel when I learn that someone has died. Your mind can't truly process death. I've looked at the condition in many ways, but it never makes any sense. It makes less sense than racism, my death. I do not understand dying.

In the beginning of last summer, a kid died. He wasn't a kid. He was about to go to college. But he had a condition where his heart was just a little misformed. Under the right conditions, his heart would stop beating. He died. When an old friend called me up, she was crying. My voice dropped an octave and I stated that I could not believe it. But I could. It made sense.

Later in the last summer, a student from Colgate died. I tried my very best to ignore the Facebook invite to his funeral. I did not want to know that he had lost his battle with cancer as I was beginning my studies at medical school. It was stressful. But it was also incredibly sad, because he had so many friends. He had been a kind but loud, hilarious but friendly type of person. I remember him so well that I could not believe he had died. But he had. And I believed it.

Today, my cousin died. He was not sick. I remember him. Not in small packets of flashbacks. Much more than that. I found out through facebook--his sister's wall post. And as I read the first line, I felt my senses distort. "Rest in Paradise." My mind immediately jumped to: He's moving? As I read through the paragraph, every verb written in the past tense only scratched harder at my consciousness. At the conclusion my mind blanked so I could only react with saying "no. no. no."

I refuse to believe it. Not because it is logically impossible but because I simply can't.

He was a funny, intelligent human being. So he can't be dead. He's only a teenager. That isn't fair. It will never be fair. My mind can't process it, so it's fallen into cognitive dissonance. It is playing around with reality. I refuse to believe that when I attend my sister's wedding this summer, with all my relatives, that he will not be standing among us. I refuse to believe that when Daft Punk starts touring for their Alive 2017 album that he will not be with his sister, my sister, and I in some city listening to their greatest hits. I refuse to believe this future because it feels like my own death. It is wrong. It is impossible.

So as my mind fills with memories of one of my favorite cousins, it only makes sense that he had witnessed some great crime and he was shuttled away to some South American country where he is making music on a cheap computer and watching the sun rise over the Andes.

I cannot afford to lose such a large percentage of my identity. My extended family is now misaligned. Will I ever be able to... feel normal... with my remaining cousins? We are an even number again. It would be easier for me just to assume that he is happier somewhere, and although I will never see him again, he is still alive. I understand now why some people believe in heaven. I am still opposed. But if ever a kid deserved eternal life, well, he's a good candidate.

So CIA/God, take good care of him. He may not have been the best human being in the entire world, but he was my favorite cousin. He was a good person, but more importantly, he deserves the best.