Seraph

A strange thing has happened since my cousin died.

I've mentioned before that she and I were not particularly close. We have a very large family (our parents make up a part of six children, all of whom have children of their own, half of which have been divorced and remarried to someone who previously had children, so there's upwards of fifty of us). We always see the family on the holidays, and certain other special occasions. Sometimes, it's just a barbecue in the summertime, but we see each other. We visit. We know the basics about each other -- this one plays football, that one's a cheerleader, those two are musicians, etc. And since we've been around each other for all our lives, we can easily have conversations and be around each other.

That does not guarantee a closeness. I've learned more about my cousin since she died than I ever knew about her while she lived. This makes me sad. More than sad. It makes me regretful, which is something that I rarely am. And perhaps that explains the strange thing.

Over the last couple of months, my cousin has turned into a guiding star for me. When I'm upset, or I feel lost, or I just can't handle the stress of the life I'm living, I find myself turning to her. I turn to her, in my mind, and I say, "What am I supposed to do now?" I ask her for her guidance and I try to take the knowledge that I have of her and figure out what she would say to me. A lot of times, when I feel myself breaking, I'll see a picture of her. It's rarely the same picture, it's always at a random moment, but something in that photo gives me the answer I'm looking for. Something shining in that still of her face says, "Don't give up on your dreams," or, "Smile," or, "Just give 'em some attitude," and it's always exactly right.

I feel that this is purposeful. I feel that it's intentional. I feel that this is a gift given to me from her, from the world. It doesn't feel odd and it doesn't feel selfish. It feels right that she would be the one to lead me to the right path, that she would help become the person that I long to be. When I need a hand to hold, it seems like she's right there holding it. Maybe it doesn't sound right, maybe it sounds like I'm glad she's dead, but I'm so thankful to have her beside me. I'm so incredibly thankful to not have to feel completely alone.

I know she made people feel like that when she was alive. I know that everyone who was close to her felt that she did that for them. And I just hate that I couldn't have had her living comfort, too.

I hope that the rest of them know she's there. I hope that they feel her, holding their hands when they're lost, touching their shoulders when they cry. Because I know they're lost. And I know they cry. And I know she's there for them.