Death is such a mystery. Our hope is that a better life awaits us in a place where we will once again see those who have gone before us. That thought helps us get through the process of grieving and acceptance. But no matter how strong our faith, the loss leaves an empty space in our hearts.

There are so many things I love about getting older. So many of the insecurities of my youth are now gone. I don’t worry so much about what others will think of me or if they think of me at all. There are also many things about aging I don’t like so much in addition to the aches and pains and the old lady in the mirror that just won’t go away. One of them is seeing the older generation disappear and many of those in our own generation leaving us too soon – and it is always too soon. But what pains me the most is the death of those from the next generation, those I remember when they were just babies. We have had too many of those.

On February 21 we lost yet another one – Carlos Jose Deupi. There are no words I could offer to console all those who mourn him. What can I say to his mother, my cousin Teresita?

I will share one beautiful memory I have of a one year old Carlos Jose. The summer I was fifteen I spent a month visiting the Deupi/Santaballa household. One day Tia Irmina was getting him ready for his nap and he realized his favorite blanket was missing. He was devastated would not stop crying. Tia Irmina was in the process of washing his little blanket. Hard as we tried, there was no way to console him. Finally exhausted and tearful he fell asleep.  The look on his face that evening at bedtime when he saw his little blanket was priceless – a look of pure joy. As he embraced his beloved blanket he said “Ahh!”

It is my sincere prayer that the same joy is now magnified in his soul. Rest in peace my little cousin!

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