This would have been my cousin's 34th birthday
As Aunt Anya pointed out the last time I visited, my second cousin Petya was a year older than me. The key word being "Was." Because, [] years ago, during the short stretch of time between our birthdays when we were the same age, he died. I was 14 years old, and he never lived to see his 15th birthday.
Back when I was four, Grandpa Fedya, my mom's maternal grandfather, died. That was my first introduction to the concept of death. I remember my dad telling me that, no, we can't go to his apartment to see him, because he is no more. And I remember trying to wrap my mind around this concept. But that was different. I only met him a few times, and I only remember one of them - and even then, I remember him more as this warm, friendly presence, his features blurred in my mind's eye, than a person.
Petya was part of my childhood. Like I mentioned before (mostly, admittedly, in friends-locked posts), Aunt Anya and her immidate family lived only a few blocks from us. I would see him at family gatherings, but I got to see him more often than my uncle, or some of my other relatives. We used to hang out together at family gatherings, because Petya, Slavik and I were the only kids there. At least until my siblings, and Petya's sister Iya, came along.
When my mom told me that Petya died, my first reaction was disbelief. He was part of my childhood. He was around my age. This wasn't supposed to happen. I have taken for granted that he would always be there.. And he was gone.
Even now, 19 years later, thinking about it hurts. Writing about it hurts. And... When Grandpa Vitya died, I could take comfort in a fact that he lived a long life, and at least he died doing what he loved. With Grandma Valya, there was, honestly, sadness mixed with relief, because I don't know how much of the person she used to be was still there in the last few years of her life. Grandma Kima's death hurt, but, again, at least she lived a long, full life.
Thinking about Petya's death makes me angry. I saw my sister get married. I saw a birth of my niece. I saw my brother go to college. He never got that chance. It pisses me off every time I think about it. It's not fair.
It's not fair that he never got a chance to see his sister grow up.
It's not fair that he never got a chance to meet his younger brother.
When I was talking with Tima about our family... I didn't bring up Petya, because, like I've written before, how do you even bring it up? But I did wonder... I'm sure Iya, Uncle Sasha and Aunt Anya told him about his brother plenty, but if he ever asked how I remembered him.
And thinking about it, I realized there were many things I probably didn't know as well as I could. Things I wish I would have paid attention to. And maybe I would mention how we used to talk about cartoons, music and video games.
My cousin wasn't without flaws. He didn't always make the best decisions. But he was a good person at the core. And he loved his sister, and I'm sure he would have loved Tima, too.
С Днём Рождения, Петька
I miss you. And I always will.
Back when I was four, Grandpa Fedya, my mom's maternal grandfather, died. That was my first introduction to the concept of death. I remember my dad telling me that, no, we can't go to his apartment to see him, because he is no more. And I remember trying to wrap my mind around this concept. But that was different. I only met him a few times, and I only remember one of them - and even then, I remember him more as this warm, friendly presence, his features blurred in my mind's eye, than a person.
Petya was part of my childhood. Like I mentioned before (mostly, admittedly, in friends-locked posts), Aunt Anya and her immidate family lived only a few blocks from us. I would see him at family gatherings, but I got to see him more often than my uncle, or some of my other relatives. We used to hang out together at family gatherings, because Petya, Slavik and I were the only kids there. At least until my siblings, and Petya's sister Iya, came along.
When my mom told me that Petya died, my first reaction was disbelief. He was part of my childhood. He was around my age. This wasn't supposed to happen. I have taken for granted that he would always be there.. And he was gone.
Even now, 19 years later, thinking about it hurts. Writing about it hurts. And... When Grandpa Vitya died, I could take comfort in a fact that he lived a long life, and at least he died doing what he loved. With Grandma Valya, there was, honestly, sadness mixed with relief, because I don't know how much of the person she used to be was still there in the last few years of her life. Grandma Kima's death hurt, but, again, at least she lived a long, full life.
Thinking about Petya's death makes me angry. I saw my sister get married. I saw a birth of my niece. I saw my brother go to college. He never got that chance. It pisses me off every time I think about it. It's not fair.
It's not fair that he never got a chance to see his sister grow up.
It's not fair that he never got a chance to meet his younger brother.
When I was talking with Tima about our family... I didn't bring up Petya, because, like I've written before, how do you even bring it up? But I did wonder... I'm sure Iya, Uncle Sasha and Aunt Anya told him about his brother plenty, but if he ever asked how I remembered him.
And thinking about it, I realized there were many things I probably didn't know as well as I could. Things I wish I would have paid attention to. And maybe I would mention how we used to talk about cartoons, music and video games.
My cousin wasn't without flaws. He didn't always make the best decisions. But he was a good person at the core. And he loved his sister, and I'm sure he would have loved Tima, too.
С Днём Рождения, Петька
I miss you. And I always will.