I haven't really posted in the last 9 months because I haven't been sure of what to say, really. I'm still not. I keep starting and stopping this post because. IDK. My best friend died. But she also lived. Every last minute. Guys, right after she told the doctors to cut it out with the doodads and medicines because she was done, she sent me down to the gift shop to get her chocolate. The last thing she drank was a Pepsi with more gusto and appreciation than I've seen foodies with a 5 star meal.

And it was also hard. Like being born, dying is hard work, I didn't realize how much. She wasn't in pain or distress in the way you might think, she was also heavily on the good drugs and not particularly conscious or coherent for most of the afternoon (her choice), but the body struggles to live even after you've told it that it's okay not to. Her body caught up with her choice about a half hour before she went and in the end it was so chill and so Zen, I can't even quantify it.

I thought I was okay, IDK, I think maybe I am. I learned more about embracing life and not fearing death and being grateful for every moment this year than I could have thought possible thanks to Zen being who she is. But when the arrangements were finalized for them to come take her body last night I realized I couldn't go with her. How is that possible? That is my job. To make sure she never, ever has to be alone in a scary new medical place, that someone who knows her and what she wants and where she keeps all the info they might need can speak for her when she can't, and remember things so she doesn't have to. And last night I had to let her go without me. I'm not sure I know how to do that yet.

So I don't really know what to say. Soon I will pick myself up and live like she wanted me to. Soon. Not today. Today me and Waffles are just gonna hang out under the blanket here wishing we could be doing our jobs.
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