My friend Amanda died nearly two weeks ago. She was barely in her forties. She died of a very aggressive form of breast cancer she had been fighting for less than a year. The last time I spoke with her I thought she was done with treatment. Now she is dead.
I didn’t take her death well, though it wasn’t like we were best friends. I hadn’t even seen her since the early stages of her diagnosis. I’ve experienced a lot of deaths, old and young, so it’s not like death is a new thing. I’m not one of those people who glom onto bad news, but this hit me much harder than I’d expected. I was awash in grief for days, surprised by tears dripping down my cheeks. The sorrowful sound of despair would startle me mid-memory, only to realize that the sound had come from me. I was truly grief stricken.
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