Wilhelm, are you listening now?

I really thought Paul would be in my dreams last night. I wanted to say goodbye. I was so unprepared for how hard I would take this. I guess I just never really thought it would happen. He kept telling me the end was near, but I wasn't listening.

I keep opening my chat boxes, hoping that some missed offline messages will pop up, anything, something. I didn't realize how much I depended on him being there. We talked probably 5 out of 7 days for the last two plus years, especially in the last year or so. Paul was always there. We would laugh about our relationship "in the box."

I self medicated last night and went to bed feeling Ok with things. But this morning that heavy skillet is back in my chest, a slight ache. I'll forget for a minute what has happened, then I will remember, with that dropping heart feeling, that Paul is gone.

I haven't grieved for a person since my sister died in 2001, not truly grieved. I forgot what an emotional roller coaster grieving is...laughing, crying, feeling calm, feeling angry.

My family is being OK. My husband, very much aware of how much time Paul and I spent together online has been supportive and I appreciate him not down playing my grief. He doesn't understand CF too much, but this he seems to understand. My mother was a different story. I don't think she can understand how a mostly online frinedship can lead to these sorts of feelings. She doesn't understand why I want to go to his services in Chicago. I felt more alone than ever when she made a few of the comments she did after I asked if she'd help with the kids when I found out when the services would be. The first person I would have talked to about that would have been Paul.

His name pops in on my chatbox and I keep wanting to type in, "you there?" but of course, he isn't.

I know Paul left this world in his own terms, the way he wanted to go. I admire that. I admire how brave he was in death. I want to be as brave in life as I honor and remember my friend, but these little selfish parts of me keeping popping in...feeling sorry for myself, forgetting how many others are grieving along with me. Parts I know Paul would have told me to recognize and let go of.

I know I am no where finished in this process. I may never be, as I don't let people in and out of my heart easily. But the place Paul held in my heart is huge. It isn't empty. I know he is still there, I just have to learn to hold him differently now.