Ivan

8 years old, give or take a couple 525,600 minutes. Not a care in the world and even less troubles in my life as far as I knew. "Death" what in the world was death to a mind like mine. The concept was unfamiliar to me and heck if the coyote was still alive after being in so many accidents chasing the roadrunner than death just couldn't be too common. Out of the blue though my coyote of a cousin caught death... He was a young coyote, younger than I. Much, much younger than I. He was my aunt's second child and the sadness spread like a wildfire. The odd thing about it was that I must have been fire-proof. I felt no sadness and at times I couldn't stand myself because I didn't feel anything. I was heartless I thought. And what was worse I doubted everything. At such a young age I doubted God. God, I didn't even understand what or who God was. I knew he did good things but where was the good in the death of my cousin. He did no wrong, for he had not the will to even do something wrong. He spoke no wrong for he had not the ability to speak. He was better than any of us but God took him. This God we praise was praised no more by me. Ivan we called him left our world just as quickly as he came into it. Looking back it saddens me I can't put a voice to his face.  It saddens me I'll never hold a conversation with him or get to know him. But what saddens me more is that he was never given a fighting chance to live his life.  Stricken by disabilities maybe he wouldn't have lived a normal life, but he would have lived. Disabilities or not I saw him as any other child I had seen before. He was no different. He had a beating heart like the rest of us. A beating heart that one day just stopped beating.