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Death Wrapped in a Blanket Fort

Posted Mar 11 2013 10:13am
The death of friends with CF open up many doors.  There are the floodgates of tears when you lose a friend.  There are the floodgates of emotions for someone who died from your disease.  But there are also the doors with a bunch of unanswered questions behind them.  And you find yourself asking these questions on a blog at 1am (then modifying them in the morning).

Did they know they were dying?
Did they know they were being taken off of life support?
When they were told they needed to be vented were they scared and worried they wouldn't come off of it?
What was the end like for them?
Did they know it was there?
Did they hear people talking, know people were near them?
Did they have any regrets?

You ask these questions because their death is your death.  You see their end as your end.  And though it may not happen for a few years, it still looms large over your head. Wanting answers to something you can never ask.  Wondering how it will be for you.  If their death really will be your death.  And always, always wondering if you lived enough, loved enough, and left enough impressions that when you do die, you won't be forgotten easily.

For me I wonder if my new life is a true representation of me.  Do the people in my life know me?  Do I know me?  Will they say "oh she was x, y and z" and be right?  Or will my "original" friends say "no she was like a, b and c" and will they be right?

Death makes you look at your life in an entirely different light.  And though I have been fortunate enough to not lose someone since January, someone out there, on my friends list, may not be there tomorrow.  And each post about sickness, or more IVs, or the need for O2 continuously, reminds me of this.

I love each and every one of my friends, but some days, that blanket fort on the bed calls my name more ferociously than the previous day and it takes all my strength to not go and hide...
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