The most shocking, scarring experience of my life was without a doubt the death of my cousin. I was in the 4th grade when it happened, and I didn't know much about the world. I had never had a major event even close to the magnitude of my cousin's taking of his own life occur. Whenever I heard the words come out of my mother's mouth, I couldn't even process it. It wasn't until about 20 minutes later when I got in the shower that I really understood what happened. I bawled my eyes out, collapsing on the floor, desperately trying to get a grip on the whole situation. I guess I should provide a little bit of background information: My cousin, Connor, lived in New Hampshire. He was 14 when he passed, a freshman in high school, just as I am now. He was an extraordinarily smart kid, a lover of the Boston Red Sox, my favorite team. He, his younger brother Drew, and his mom, Aunt Tara (aka Uncle Fred) would usually visit on Thanksgivings. Those are some of my fondest chi...