My cousin was murdered when he was 23 years old, while he was serving in Iraq.

After being given this news, I experienced events unfolding through a haze of grief so deep I still fight for breath when I remember how it felt. I stopped feeling alive. I didn’t feel alive again for a long time. I am terrified of losing loved ones unexpectedly due to the PTSD that has lived in my mindbody since that day.

My last communication with him was on valentines day. I said he should run away. That we could run away together and open a bar called Pedro’s. I have no idea why I chose the name Pedro, I think I just liked it. He laughed and told me he loved me.

A month later, the UK invaded Iraq. Three months after that, Ben was dead.