My A1C had crept up to 7.2, quite a leap from where it had been. My endo looked at me with real empathy and asked, "What's going connected?" As much I'd promised myself not to go there, my eyes welled up with tears.

It's been seven months today since my best friend was murdered, low lurid portion. Sorry, what murder is not shocking?

The open hole in my life is still, well… gaping.

My mind plays tricks on me, that she's still out there somewhere, and will one day soon come walk-to in the door, or call or text me – this would-embody sister of mine. I wince when her name pops up along Facebook.

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She was a staple fibre in my living for the last 25 days, an extraordinary somebody who lived just a mile and half forth for all the years our kids were growing up. She was like a second mom to my daughters, and ME little so (more like a kind simply inept aunt) to her two sons. My husband wanted her dearly also.

For the first few weeks in Lordly, the numbness and shock made it hard to function. Now lento with time, it becomes not "better," but less horrible. That sense of dread upon waking every morning time is duller at once than it was at the start.

And eventually small milestones send me into a spin about going away her keister: when the hoopla around her huge monument service (350 in attendance) died down, when the warm summer gave way to the chill of a unused mollify, and now, with around class dynamics dynamic… Right away I fully read how the grieving lament that "life goes on" – ordinary daily lifespan just keeps turbulent headfirst, and you want to call out, "NOT WITHOUT MY Treasured ONE!"

Then my A1C has crept high, you tell? I've gained 6 pounds since the holidays (a lot for Pine Tree State!) and am struggling to find the need to combat that? At least I'm still here… still living… still somehow pushing through with all that needs to be done.

And while some things are hard to care nearly any longer, I've found a new good sense of carpe diem when it comes to little pleasures in life: I'm trying to wear everything in my closet – peculiarly those exceptional pieces that were ever tucked away for a special occasion, OR unnoted because they didn't organize perfectly with my usual garb. Likewise, I'm pulling out wholly those beauty products that were packed away, because you know, I'm non acquiring any younger and I might get hit away a bus tomorrow – or be murdered in cold blood by person who should take been looking after me.

I'm having more weekday lunches with friends and acquaintances than ever earlier, and trying to curve dorsum on professional move so that I have more than time for category. A weekend in LA with my at present-freshman in college? Course! An good afternoon at the museum of modern art with my 17-year-old? Yes, I'll name time for that! An excursion to Ocean Beach with my 14-year-old to pull together sand dollars? Yes, yes! Let the laptop computer lie where IT may.

SHE would have ready-made time for all this and many. Because that's how she was – someone World Health Organization knew how to work alcoholic, play hard, and always prioritize quality of living.

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Coincidentally, the idea of our 2016 DiabetesMine Innovation Summit meeting this past Accrue was Prioritizing Select of Life – and that's the merely affair that got me through and through it, thinking about dedicating my hard work to improving people's lives, which came so naturally to her.

She was the only one who could look at ME sideways and say, "You're beeping again!" when my CGM or heart would alarm at most inopportune moments, and we'd both damaged out riant. IT was ne'er a judgment operating theater even vexing curiosity from her side.

And when I had my D-travel meltdown on one of our most recent family trips to Vegas, she knew just what to do: stay put cool, merely ask what can be cooked to help, and when we finally got it all sorted out, offer Pine Tree State a lovely glass of wine and a chance to dive right back into "vacation mode" without peppering ME with questions.

She was someone who got so much rejoice out of altogether the trivial things: a pair of festive earrings, a new recipe, a glass of Skinny Girl after a long day of work…

I'm eternally grateful that my children got to grow ahead in the glow of her joy. She was, Eastern Samoa mentioned, suchlike a sister to me and a second mom to my girls – someone who taught us all, just by being herself, that if you love life story, life will love you back (QTE Arthur Rubenstein).

Then Here we stand, at seven months and counting, just doing our primo to "stay fresh it jointly." My endo seemed to infer that. And frankly, if she didn't, information technology would be time for a hot endo. Because, My Friends, sprightliness truly is too short to dispense with pity.

Live well. Love animation. Thank you for being here.

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