I didn't exactly start this morning the way I would have liked to; especially not on a day when we have an early deadline because of the holiday. And especially not on a day that's the last workday before Christmas.

We got a phone call before I left for work (my mom is off from school starting today) and it was my cousin in New York. My cousin Pat died last night from lung cancer. We didn't even know he had lung cancer. He did smoke for for most of his life--he was in his mid-60s--then he quit more than a year ago.

Just to clear up some confusion, Pat was married to my cousin Patti--they are both much older than myself, so out of respect, I always referred to them as "aunt" and "uncle."

It was pretty rough being at work this morning and trying to get motivated and start writing. But fortunately I've been busy enough to be distracted, and not too busy to be overwhelmed by work.

It still hasn't sunk in yet, though, that he died. It still seems so unreal. And the fact that I haven't seen him in more than a year really makes it all the more upsetting. The last time I see him as at their apartment in Pelham, NY in 2005 for a Fourth of July barbecue.

I'm kinda still in shock--and a little bit of denial. At first, I thought that I had heard wrong, even though the logical side of my brain kept reminding me that I had heard perfectly well. It was just such a surprise, because he wasn't sick--to our knowledge, anyway. We're not so sure he even knew he had lung cancer. He told his wife last night that he didn't feel right, so they went to the hospital and he died.

What sucks is that they aren't even having a wake or a funeral; they're cremating him, and then they'll have a small ceremony after the holidays for extended family.