I learned yesterday that my cousin Kresent passed away recently. She apparently lost her battle with alcohol and her kidneys failed. She was 36--only two months older than me.

There were three cousins that spent a lot of time together growing up: Kresent was the oldest, born on September 4th, 1976, Stephanie was next on October 4th, 1976, and I was the youngest born on November 4th, 1976.

I remember building snow forts with them in my front yard, playing in the park, skipping rocks in the river, catching crawdads in the creek, you know, goofy kid stuff... Things changed when my family moved to Nevada when I was 12. Our visits became less regular, and then we just seemed to float in and out of each others' lives.

I hadn't seen Kresent in a few years. After my father passed we lost regular contact with his side of the family. I know she was battling alcoholism, a battle she apparently lost, but I don't know when she passed, when the funeral was, or even where she's buried (or if she was buried at all). My mom is trying to find out for us right now.

Kresent's death is bothering me a lot. Understandably so, but her and I had a lot in common, and apparently similar demons.

It feels strange, almost disconnected from reality. It just feels so strange... like a piece of me is missing. I haven't cried yet, but I know I will.

Goodbye Kresent. Be at peace.


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