I had a nightmare last night.  I was giving someone I love cpr and I was trying and trying for what seemed like hours but was really probably 15 minutes.  I could feel my chest go in and out as air was going into his lungs in and out- I was counting to 8 as I pushed on his chest and every number I said out loud was like another punch into reality of what was happening.  I can remember what I was thinking - please just throw up and start breathing like they do in the ER tv show.  I was sweating and trying and trying and trying.  I was waiting to hear the sirens in the background but they never came.  I woke up on my side and when i opened my eyes I was staring at myself in my closet door mirrors.  I wasnt sweating, I wasnt scared, I wasnt crying.  I was just there. 
I had a funeral today for an old friends husband.  34 years old.  He had cancer and has struggled for 4+ years through this horrible disease.  So has his family.  He died on Christmas Eve.  An Angel going home.  They talked about him being strong, fair, funny, the life of the party, romantic, loving and always positive.  But the thing that stuck with me the most was he always had hope.  Hope is what makes us keep going.  Hope.
I look at my friend and hope that she can heal and live her life fully and happy with her 4 year old son. 
Dealing with the loss of someone who has filled up your insides is completely exhausting. 
I hope someday she can feel complete again.

There is always hope

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