Yesterday morning, my cousin Howard passed away from heart failure. This picture was taken at the beginning of September at his daughter's wedding.
I didn't know Howard as much as I would have liked, but that can be said for most of the people on my dad's side of the family. However, Howard was one of the most genuine people I'd ever met. He had an endless supply of encouragement, was never without a joke or two, always opened his home to others, had a brilliant mind (along with a sharp wit), and loved his family without conditions.
Out of all of my cousins (the older generation), he has held a special place in my heart for all of those attributes. When I think of him, I think of his kindly smile and gentle, yet so sure voice. I think affectionately of the way he stood proudly, never taking for granted the fact that he could stand at all (cane or no cane, he was grateful). I think of the generous words he spoke at my uncle's funeral in 2008, and smile while my eyes tear up.
Though I didn't know him for very long, I've been blessed with numerous memories of family gatherings, stories told by the older generation about their time as young boys, and the ridiculous amount of warmth that fills me up when I think of him.
I know he was sick for a long time, and even though I know that pain he experienced daily is gone, I still can't help but wish that he been around longer. I'm just glad he was able to see both of his girls get married.
His memorial service is on Thursday. And even though it will be good to see my family, I wish it were under better circumstances.
