Two years ago this month, my cousin John died. I don't think about it much anymore, though at the time I pretty much escaped into the make-believe world of the Honor Harrington series of books. (You can download all 17 books in the series - I recommend them if you need to kill a couple months.)
The day after the funeral I was at my aunt Susan's house before heading to the airport, and she'd taken all the leftover cantaloupe from the reception and blended it, making a rather thick juice. I don't normally enjoy cantaloupe at all, but for some reason I think it tastes excellent in liquid form, and I drank about a quart of it (approximately eating one melon whole).
That's the one positive thing I took from that trip. Mostly I just remember the heartbreak on my aunt and uncle's faces, particularly when Susan was describing being at his bedside as he died. Tonight I made juice from two cantaloupes, and it brought the memories back.
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