Today my family buried my cousin while I wandered in the woods looking for beautiful things. Several times since I heard the news, I have attempted to write about what can happen to you by the time you reach thirty-six years of age. How can you finish anything by that age? He achieved all of the badges a man might expect to achieve by that age: son, brother, man, friend, employee, husband, and father. Can you live a full life by thirty-six? I have to wonder if he felt done already, if he felt ready to go when he felt the first clot block his heart, if he felt fear or acceptance. When you go like that in your seventies, as my father did, maybe you can have a second to think, “OK. I have done everything I needed to do.” But at thirty-six, can you say that? I have no idea what my cousin might have done later. Maybe he would have helped his daughter with her homework, taken photos of her as her date picked her up for prom, danced at her wedding –all of those things that people with children may expect to do. I think he deserved to get to do those things. When your heart gives out at thirty-six, does that mean you have given all of the love you can? No one can make sense of this. I certainly cannot. We wander lost.