The death of a loved one is something so surreal. It's hard to imagine a life without them, so you push the thought of them being gone to the deepest parts of your brain. You want to believe that they still exist on the same spiritual plane so the thought of physically seeing their dead body in the flesh can seem bizarre or even terrifying. I had never thought about this experience until I was faced with the decision of whether or not to see the body of my 16 year old cousin, Elliot.

Just this past April, Elliot died from a sudden overdose. Due to the traumatizing way his body was found, our family decided a peaceful and private viewing would help provide closure to his parents and younger brothers. I wasn't personally there when his body was found, so I wasn't sure if it was something I wanted to see. In my last mental images of my cousin, he looked strong, tall, and healthy. The last time I saw him we went on a long walk by the ocean and did a quick catchup on our lives. I can still vividly see his smile and big blue eyes against the background of the Bay behind him.

So why would I want to change that comforting image? Why willingly open myself up to an image that could potentially haunt me forever? Well, I wondered the same thing and had an extremely hard time making the decision to join my family at the viewing. I ended up deciding the day of, minutes before, while already at the funeral home.

I think what ultimately solidified my choice was the emotion and sadness I saw from my family. Whether or not I felt like it was the right decision for me, it was the right decision for them and that was enough. I wanted to be there to hold the hands of my little cousins, to give some strength to my aunt and uncle, and to be the arms for my grandmother. I felt as though they were good enough reasons to risk this decision. I couldn't have been more correct.

Although it was probably one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do, it was also the most connected to my family that I've ever felt. I walked into the small room. As the casket lay open, subtle music played and a beautiful picture of him was shown on several television screens. I walked in to see my family gathered around his body. Some were standing, some were sitting, and all were crying, holding hands, and catching their breath. It was heartbreakingly beautiful as we said goodbye to our baby El and I knew right then and there that I had made the right decision.

I proceeded to take my own real and connected moment with his body and I felt the peace radiating around him.

I'm not going to lie, they don't look like they are just "sleeping." The coloring is slightly off, their hands look swollen and fake, and their body is painfully still with an illusion of plasticity. All in all, they look dead. But maybe that's a good thing, because they are dead, and at one point or another you're going to need to come to terms with that.

In my case, I'm happy I made the decision to go see him before we fully let him go. I got to share my grief and I hold that desperately close to my heart. Closure is a good thing, and I think I needed this experience to fully come to terms with the fact that I'm never going to see him again. Whether you choose to see your loved one in that state or not, one day the closure will have to settle in, and life will go on as it should with the loving memory of an extraordinary life lived.

I love you, Elliot, and I hope you're resting easy.