Life Is Short: A Story Of My Life

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Life is short. As a younger child I never fully understood what that meant. I knew that when you got older, maybe around 90 years old, you would soon pass away. As an eight year old little girl I’ve never experienced any loss. I mean, sure I had few goldfish that I found floating upside down in the bowl, but every significant person in my life was still around and living. Growing up I spent a lot of time with my family. Jensin was my cousin and my partner in crime. We were only ten months a part. We would spend countless hours playing catch, throwing a baseball back and forth, in the hot summer sun, out in my grandparents front yard. Baseball was his passion. I remember supporting him at all of his games, and him doing the same at all of mine. We had a band, he played the piano or at least tried to. I remember the little things like how he could only eat ranch with his pizza or that his favorite flavor of popsicle was banana. He was so protective over me, something I still treasure to this day. Such a quirky kid with bent glasses and a contagious laugh. On a cold February day I just got home from school when we got the call. I was told to get in the car, and that was it. The whole ride was silent and I had so many thoughts running through my head. My mother was crying, I remember her saying “They know he has heart problems” and when I heard those words I was instantly sick. I knew exactly who it was. My cousin was born with a heart condition called aortic stenosis. I
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