Life goes on, just as it should...

The voice on the other end of the phone line was a welcomed sound to my ears.

We had been out of touch since this entire thing went down.

I gave her space, hoping she understood my reasoning.

She did.

In a time in her life when everybody wanted a piece of her, she appreciated what little I could offer - breathing room.

I wasn't sure how to talk to her.

Somber? Soft? Concerned? Sad?

I didn't want to offend.

Then she made a comment about the circus that has become her life.

I couldn't help it.

I laughed. I tried to muffle myself, but the laugh got out before I could stop it.

You're not supposed to laugh when you are in mourning, right?

And then she laughed.

I heard the tension slipping from her voice just as I felt it leave my body.

She thanked me for a moment of levity because she needed it. Nobody around her understood her humor and was glad that I absolutely did.

You can count on me for inappropriate timing.

We talked and laughed. And, for the first time in a week, she said she felt normal.

She admitted that she wasn't going to be the same ever again. And I agreed with her. None of us will be.

And then she said, "I'd rather have 23 years of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing."

She knew what she lost but would continue to carry on.

I admire her strength and courage to put on a brave face and tackle this head on because I don't know if I'd be as tough as she has been.