16 Days and Counting

It's been 16 days since receiving the call telling me my best friend,  life long best bud, closer than a sister,  go to gal, bitch buddy, shoulder to cry on, my laugh out loud friend, long ago room mate, nursing school study mate,  labor room co-worker - deliverer of all my babies, and my up dirty, very bruised, vodka martini with blue cheese olives, and "no skimping on the vodka," friend was found unresponsive at home with no pulse, no breath. She's on life support, "please come."

I had talked to her a few hours before, detecting no sign of doom. Given no hint, I was unable to stop the freight train barreling toward us. There would be no second chances to say more than I did on our last phone call, and  no more dirty martini's. We shared our last on Sept. 25th, 2009.

This is about getting through these last 16 days, and remembering the last 13,505 she was my friend. I've never known anyone like her. That we remained close, devoted to each other, through so many changes in both our lives, and the world is a testament to our friendship. A rare friendship, indeed. And now, I'm trying to navigate in a world missing something huge, a daunting task.