Delusions of immortality

I grew up close to a cousin who was two years younger. Being older, I was an instigator of all kinds of shenanigans, for which as a rule only he got in trouble. He did not seem to mind though; invariably he would come over and play with me, pretending to be an Indian from the books of James Fenimore Cooper, a pirate searching for the treasure, or just competing in climbing the highest tree. I eventually outgrew my mischievousness and became an adult. He, on the other hand, stayed in the childhood perpetually, only pretending to be serious. On the surface, he looked a lot like Tim Russert, just yonger. My cousin died yesterday.
There is something to be said of being a child in a man's body. Children think they would live forever; they do not take care of themselves. Over the years, my cousin grew overweight and developed a bunch of ailments, including diabetes, which went undiagnosed. He learned about them only three days before his death. He had a stroke, which was undoubdetly a result of unhealthy living. People just shouldn't die in their early forties. My heart is so heavy now. I am thinking about all my other relatives and friends left back in Kazakhstan; how inadequate the health care is there; what kind of unhealthy traditional diet they are eating and how little they can do to improve their health because they are in a constant struggle for survival. So sad.