My cousin Posy passed on this morning. It’s a little hard to think that she is gone; for so long I would hold on hope because so many women beat breast cancer but unfortunately she wasn’t one of the luckier ones. She was 40.

I hate to think that her last few years were so awful, she married an abusive man (the divorce was finalized last month), she lost her best friend in an awful freak car accident in which she was also a passenger and I don’t think she ever recovered from all of that.

I prefer to think about the fun things we did when we were younger, I was 10 years younger than her and thought she was the coolest person ever. She gave me my first taste of cigarettes at the age of 7-I hated it. She was the one who made me behave because of her stories about her boarding school. I always saw her as this cool, trendy but super nice woman who knew all the awesome people. She was mixed like me and I always dreamed of growing up and being as pretty as her. Even in the later years when she worked in LA hotspots and got to rub elbows with famous folks I would think her life was so cool.

I think I’ll remember her as the rebellious teenager who slipped her 7 yr old cousin a smoke in her bedroom one day. It only seems fitting.