Victim Impact Statement (DRAFT)

         The last time I saw my cousin alive was February 26th, 2011. My cousin was to be an aunt and that night friends of the family were hosting a baby shower for my older cousin and his girlfriend.  When the gift opening began Jess was right there at the wooden table, enthusiastic to be there.

         I stood off to the side of the room with her twin, watching with everyone else. I had recently recovered from an illness and had even doubted my ability to attend the shower at all. Never the less I was glad I had come, it had been ages since I had seen my cousins and I suddenly resolved to myself that I wanted to see both of them in person again soon. Spring break and their 21st birthdays were coming up. I wanted a review on their classes, their plans, the stories that we suddenly would remember and tell each other. I wanted to tell them of my 21st birthday in Paris and ask Jessie for music recommendations.

         But I saw that then was not a good time. The mother–to-be had come upon Jessie’s packed gift bag and was pulling out piece after piece of colorful baby clothing. The room of people laughed a bit at Jessie’s enthusiasm and her brother teased her. I could hear her pleased laughter, laughter I used to frequently confuse with our younger aunt’s laughter. But now, as an adult, I could distinguish it from our aunt. Jessie’s laugh had a bit of vulnerability to it, and even as she smiled at her older brother I could tell despite the embarrassment nothing could deter her from her excitement.  She loved children and would love this child.

         I smiled at Jess’s twin, inquired on them and was thrilled when she voiced the opinion that we should all meet during spring break.  I left the party with high hopes, glad that I had come. I said my goodbyes carelessly.  We would have all the time in the world.

         The events of the following Saturday are well known.  Spring break was spent in mourning, my former plans with my cousin not at all forgotten, instead bitterly remembered.  I wondered if I had a right to grieve, seeing as I had allowed myself to fade from my cousins. I saw Jessie in the street, I dreamed of her, and I dreaded seeing her body as it would make everything final.

         Now I clutch on to the sound of Jessica’s laughter, smile at my cousin’s small child because Jessie can’t, and have reaffirmed myself as an organ donor like her.  Her twin and I reminisce about childhoods together; we pursue our life goals with morbid determination-[I am uncertain how to close my statement