Life Goes On Part 2

I really should be taking a nap right now.  I'm exhausted from the past few day's events.  My dear cousin, Tom, passed away yesterday afternoon from a terribly aggressive and rare cancer, neuroendocrine carcinoma.  His mom is my dad's sister, so this has been a very emotionally-charged year for this side of the family.  He was diagnosed two months ago on February 18 with cancer, and was given a couple of years.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, it turned into six months to a year.  Friday night, he was in liver failure, and had about a week.  My mom and I went to Chicago yesterday morning, and he was given a few hours.  He passed about an hour and a half after we got there.

I don't get life.  To be honest, I felt very awkward yesterday at the hospital as we shared my 30-year old cousin's last breaths while his siblings and my aunt and uncle sat by his side.  Perhaps the awkwardness came from the fact that I have this life growing inside of me, waiting to make its entrance into the world, while my cousin was preparing to make his exit.  It is inconceivable for me to understand what it would be like to lose a child, and I feel as though I went completely numb.  I couldn't cry, and still haven't really.

I'm reminded of this Buddhist thought that I learned in India when I was there six years ago: There is a paradox in relationships--once you meet someone, you are also preparing for the end of the relationship at some point in time.  Death is absolutely inevitable.  It just sucks when it's someone so young.