Wednesday, December 10, 2008

In Which I remember Caitlin

One week after I was lost and found, my cousin Caity died. We had absolutely no warning, she died for no other reason than the Scottish medical system is a fucking piece of trash. The world came screeching to a halt, the whole family went crashing into the windshield and shattered like ice against asphalt. Our collective belief in God, if there ever was any (and I don't think there was) went plummeting into the sub-zero level. Not one of us carries a shred of faith or belief or optimism. We were no longer a family unbitten by tragedy.

Caitlin was a first daughter and an older sister and a cousin I grew up with. She was a dedicated poet and writer, an avid reader, and besides blood and family and those long-shadowed summer evenings that string together to create childhood, this is what we had most in common.

She was a few weeks away from 23 when she died and working on a novel. She'll always be part of the axis around which my life spins.

My Cousins Caitlin and Alison

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