not fair.

"It's not fair," those were the words of my then 6 year old cousin when she came up to me and hugged me at my father's wake. Those were the words I have thought to myself over and over again over the last 9 months. The difference between her saying it and me saying it, is that I know better. She is 7 now, she doesn't understand the way life works. She only knows she loved her Uncle and her Aunt and now they are gone, she doesn't know though, how blessed I was to have them for as long as I did. And sitting here writing this, I am trying to remind myself of just that.

When I was just a little girl 2 of my uncles died too. I remember their funerals, I remember not understanding. I understand now.

My parents were there when I started kindergarten, when I had my first broken heart, when I graduated high school. My dad walked me down the aisle the day I said "I do." My mom held my hand while I was in labor with Izabella. They were there for all of my life's "big moments." I am blessed and lucky for that. I know that without a doubt, because I have seen how much it hurts when your parents aren't able to be there.

I have watched my sister-in-law, Alyssa's, brother "give her away" at her wedding because her father passed away when she was still just a teenager. I have seen my cousins go through most of their "big moments" without their dads there to see. Kyle was just a baby when his dad passed away, and his older sister and brother were really just kids. Angie was so young when her dad passed, but the memories she does have she holds very close to her heart. Her older sister and brother were just young adults, just teenagers. That is what is not fair. Grandchildren born who never had the opportunity to meet their Paw Paws. Daughters whose fathers never got to "give them away." Sons whose dads never got to teach them to play ball or how to drive.

I am heartbroken to no longer have my parents. But I cannot deny how blessed I am to have had them for as long as I did.

In some ways maybe I don't know what true heartbreak is. I have watched both of my grandmothers bury their children. And I stood in a cemetery and watched my cousin bury the baby she carried within her body, the baby she loved, and felt move, but never got to hear cry. I do not know that pain. And I pray that I never have to.

I don't know their kind of pain, I just know my pain. I know the pain of having your whole world turned upside down in a matter of months.

The 26 year old me knows that death is a part of life. That I am lucky, blessed and fortunate to have had my parents for as long as I did. But the 6 year old me wants to cry, kick and scream, "It's NOT fair."

I miss them, I want them back. The heartache feels like it will never go away.