On Thursday 29th July at 1.30am my beautiful cousin Peter died. He was also my god son. He was 33 years old, had just built a beautiful new home with his fiance, bought a new puppy and was expecting his first child on Valentine's Day next year.
Many of you will already know this via Facebook but I had to write it here. My sister didn't think I should blog about it, but I need to. I've been putting it off but if I don't do it now, I simply can't blog about anything else. It would all be a lie if I didn't include his death, as part of my life.
So he died. It was unexpected, senseless and a waste of a beautiful soul. Our family will be broken without him. His mum and my mum are sisters. We are all very close. It's been hard.
The funeral was the Friday a week after his death (about 300 people attended), and this morning my aunt, his fiance, his brother and my sister, scattered his ashes in the river at a memorial park near where his mother lives.
There's so much I can say about Peter, so many things that make it all the more tragic but, it doesn't matter, because...he's gone.
RIP Beautiful Boy.
EDIT - oh and his favourite colour was purple....