Every week, for the last four weeks, I have attended a "Going Home" service for an Uncle. Today, my cousin will be laid to his final rest. And I will NOT be there. I want to go and show signs of support for my Aunt Michelle and his sisters and brothers, but I am just unable to watch him lay so still... We weren't really close, but we grew up together. And every time I take a minute to think about him and his twin (because you can't think about one without the other) I start crying. He was 32 years old. Thirty-two. It really does hurt. A lot. I keep replaying the last time I saw him and the jokes he had...the jokes he always had. Or when we were younger and they (him and his twin) would pick up me and their little sister and walk us to the Boy's and Girl's Club of Newark. I wonder if he knew how much I loved him. And though we did not speak often or see each other often in our adult years, that I did love him. Life is so tentative. I have to make better habits of letting the people I love know that I love them and stop wasting my time with people taking up time. Tough times. Real tough times.