would you know my name?

Yesterday I had to run some errands. It was a bit arctic here and when I got out of my car, a blast of cold wind lifted my hair and burned my eyes, left me breathless. And I thought, "Ahh, there you are," then started crying as I walked into CVS.

The kindness of others never ceases to amaze me. I hope that I can reciprocate what people have given me in these last few days. I keep feeling gluttonous, taking all the sympathy and holding it close, as if I am the only one who lost someone.

The truth is, we're all hurting, and the losses keep on coming. Though I was the closest to Paul of all the people we have recently lost, I've ben touched by what each person's passing has meant - what it means to all of us.

There is something odd about being a "survivor." Especially a CF survivor, because the idea of survival is so transient. What does it even mean, in the face of this disease?

All these large life and death questions are swirling around in my head. I've asked a few people their thoughts and every time I am left feeling that that can't possibly be the answer. It all seems so simple.

When my sister died, I remember people talking about "heaven" and I thought they were crazy. There could not be such a place. What a childish idea. When Paul died, my first thought was, "I sure hope they were right."

I miss you. I can't wait to be in your space Saturday, to breathe you in....fill up these cystic lungs with your energy, breathe out all the love I have. All the love I have, Paul.