Life and Death

My cousin was buried last Saturday and I surprised myself with the intensity of the sadness I was feeling. I cried for the loss of chances, of possibilities, of reconciliation. 

I remember a time when Ruy and I were on a date. I saw a man riding the escalator and I said to myself “Wow, that man’s handsome”…only to find out that it was my cousin. When he got sick I remembered this scenario and I cried knowing that the chances of me ever running into him anywhere is slim to none.  We would never be able to have our old trips to Tagaytay, EK, etc.  I cried for this too.His burial last Saturday reminded me once again of my own mortality and the mortality of the people around me.

 I used to not be afraid of dying, but now I’m terrified of it. I don’t want to be just another story that people will be telling Andrea when she grows up. I don’t want Andrea to “think” that her mom might have loved her based on the storied of other people. I want her to experience her parents…My fear of dying has reached such irrational heights that even just looking at  term life insurance quotes makes me nervous.