Who are you? Deep down inside, who are you? I went to wake, a memorial service, for my cousin last night and besides crying ten different times it made me think. It made me think, a lot. It's not every funeral that I go to that makes me think about who I am or where I stand in life. This one was different. He just turned 48 a few weeks ago and was recently remarried in July. How can this happen to such a great guy? Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a complete angel growing up, but then again who is? He didn't or wouldn't hurt a soul. He was a man of many friends and touched the hearts of every one. As I paid my respects to his new wife; I cried of course, then his mom, being my aunt; I cried again. I made my way around the room speaking with the entire family, hugging and crying. I finally sat down by myself in their white cushioned folding, yet soft chairs and just looked around the room. I didn't make the early viewing, so it was just after six. The room was full, full of people, full of love and full of stories about how he touched the hearts of everyone there. I just kept thinking to myself, how is this, why is this and when I pass will the room be as full for my services? I didn't talk to many people at first as it was quiet in the room, but as time went by and people were starting to meet the aura changed. You could hear and feel the despondency lift and the happiness fill the room. As much grief and sorrow there was for his death, there was rejoicing and contentment around for the memories that remained. Looking around I caught a glimpse of his wife who just brought pure agony to my heart that I cannot explain. I could feel how much hurt and pain was on her heart that she could not explain to anyone. I looked over at my aunt, his mom and only saw a glazed look in her eye as she has the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease. Will she remember this tomorrow when she wakes and has to come to the burial? Next week, when she calls him for Thanksgiving? Or even next year, when she wants to wish him a happy birthday? My heart yet is even more bleak. Michael, my cousin, had just died of a massive heart attack, at the age of 48. How do you begin to put this together, to even allow this to make sense? You can't. Life is a strange and mysterious gift that we have. Our life is not who we are or how we live but who we are is how we live, so as I type this I ask; who are you? Do you let your life define you or do you define your life?