I miss my friend.

My friend, Michelle, passed away. I knew it was coming. She knew it was coming. (Cancer made that clear.) The months leading up to it, I would wake up with one thought: check my phone. Check Facebook. See if she was OK or in the hospital again. Or worse.

I wasn't there each day helping with pain meds and procedures. Sutures and scans. I cannot comprehend the emptiness now facing her husband and two young children.

I miss her. I don't want to delete my now one-sided text stream. I don't really even want to work. Or eat. It seems so trivial.

But these things are precisely the beauty—and luxury—of living. To mourn I needed to LIVE. Via cake, it turned out.

I once read in Michelle's blog, "I think this is a good plan for dealing. I will bake a cake. F--- you, cancer. ... I've got too much living left to do."

So I took my time. I made almond cake with a homemade lemon curd topping. I bought Prosecco. And, with my community, I celebrated my friend. And living.
#LiveLikeMichelle