Through the hard times let me know that I'm not alone.

This time today last year, I got a call. My mom told me my cousin died from a gun shot wound. She hung up, and then I called his phone...twice. No answer. Then my mom called again crying even more. I went to my grandma's house to be there when she was told my cousin died. We stood with his mom, and three sisters until 7 am. I will never forget that night. I can't say much, but a lot of stuff happened. All I can say is that a cop killed him.

He was pronounced dead at 12:06 am. I remember seeing his body at his viewing, and I hated it. He'll never laugh, or make us laugh again. All of his son's memories of him will be at a cemetery. John was, (I hate using past-tense when talking about him.), 19 when he died. He would have been 20 last year, 21 this year. I miss my cousin so much. The world lost a bit of colour when he died. It wasn't his time to go, but every dream a family member has on him, he says he's happy. Maybe I just need to celebrate his life instead of mourn his death, but it's so hard when to when we grew up together.