My Cousin

My Cousin was recently killed in a freak accident.
He returned home safe from Iraq and was killed in a hit and run accident while crossing a street.
When I heard the news I was dumb struck.
My cousin called me while I was at work and asked if I'd heard, when I asked heard what, she said, "Antoinne got killed last night".
I went into the bathroom and cried.
During the week that led up to his funeral I was in complete disbelief.
The day of the funeral I couldn't bring myself to look at him in the casket.

As I sat through the service I actually felt like I was at a strangers funeral.
I was struck by how little I knew about Antoinne, or Howard as he was referred to during the service.
I've known him since I was 7 years old when my uncle married his mother. It's been 22 years and as I sat in the funeral home and looked around at the bereaved friends and family members a good number of whom I'm related to I realized I didn't know him as well as I could have and I felt such an incredible sense of loss.
I remember going to his high school graduation and he in tum coming to my graduation from grammer school.
I remember countless family gatherings, Christmas, Thanksgiving, July 4th.
I remember conversations, hearty laughs, genuine smiles.
I remember always being struck by how good looking he was and what a great personality he had.
This is the Antionne I knew.
I didn't know Howard.
I didn't know his favorite song, his favorite color or his favorite movie.
I didn't know any of his hopes or dreams.
I didn't know him, and I really feel I missed out on knowing a great person who was more than just my cousin Antionne and it saddens me.