Around eight years ago, my cousin and I started a band. We called our band Macaroni, after our first song. I was only five years old, but I remember being astonished by my cousin’s talent. His name was Ronan, and he was five years older than me. He played the guitar, drums, and bass, and he sang. You know the feeling of being left out because you’re, “too young” or, “you wouldn't understand because you’re so little”? Ronan never gave me that feeling. And I loved him for that.

*****

I remember walking upstairs to my room and seeing my dad look really stressed out.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. I wasn’t expecting anything huge; maybe he had to go somewhere for work, maybe his boss was sick, I don’t know.

He cleared his throat, and I noticed that he might’ve been crying. I felt a lump in my throat and a pit in my stomach.

“Last night Ronan went to the hospital.”

I felt a wave of relief. My cousin Ronan had been involved with drugs, and he went to rehab two years ago. He was fine for a while, but then he went back to them. He’d been to the hospital before this, so it couldn’t be that bad.

I thought that that was it, but then my dad began talking again. He pulled me in a tight hug. I could hear the pain and sadness in his voice as he said, “While he was in the hospital, he passed away.”

No. I almost laughed. Ronan didn’t die. That could never happen. That only happened to other people. Not me. I felt all prickly, and I couldn’t breathe.

“We’ll go down to Massachusetts to see Auntie Alla, Uncle Seth, and Abby.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief. This had to be a dream. I would wake up and everything would be fine. But deep down I knew that this was real. I felt like we all knew it would happen, but now that it was, it was just. Wow. I went into my room and still couldn’t breathe. I packed my bag not even worrying about what I was picking out of my closet.

We got into the car and started driving. I hadn’t cried yet. I’m not sure why. We’d been driving for 45 minutes, but it felt like five. Time was going by so fast. My dad called my sister and my mom because they were off shopping somewhere. I don’t remember what my mom and dad said to each other because I was just blank. My mind was blank, and my ears were ringing. Then my dad called my grandmother.

Now that I think about it, my dad was a hero. He kept it all together and was there for all of us. I will be forever thankful for him.

We got to Massachusetts, and there were lots of hugs. I still hadn’t cried. I think that’s because I was still thinking that I would wake up, and everything would be fine. I missed him so much. When people say that there is a hole in their heart, that’s what happened to me. It felt like a literal chunk of my soul was ripped out, and I’m not sure if it’ll ever come back.

That day was terrible. It changed my life and my entire perception of the world. But if there’s one thing that I could take away from it, it would be that it taught me things about life that I would’ve never learned otherwise. It taught me not to take anything for granted, especially family. I’ve learned that sometimes, you never really miss someone until they’re gone.

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