I haven't been able to erase her number out of my phone. So many days it just seems unreal, like she's traveling and one day I'll get a call from her and she'll have her squeel and an ehtusiastic "Hi Erin!" and then thre are days that I realize that is not happening. Those are the hardest days. The days when I cry and scream and beg for time to go back. I have flash backs of the hospital and so many times I try to rub my hand so that maybe I could just feel her warmth in my hand again. Maya's death has been the defining point of my life to date. I just can't seem to get it all the way into my head that she's gone. But I try to live a life that she would be proud of. I'd like to go to India to teach, to do something. I compliment people when they look beautiful, just like she always did. I try to give as much love as she gave, my heart has to beat twice as fast now. Although sometimes I wish it wasn't beating at all, so I could at least be with her again. No one deserves the pain of a loved one’s death, but it is inevitable. You can’t escape it. All the people you know and love are unraveling as we speak. Life is a straight march to the cliff. But knowing this is not any consolation when confronted with a loved one’s death. Even if you can accept your own mortality, you cannot accept the mortality of the ones you love. This is what makes everyone crazy. As children, we are perfect machines of love, observing the world in our innocence, protected from the knowledge of entropy. It is the realization of our mortality that begins the unraveling of our innocence and sanity. The knowledge of our mortality causes us to live our lives motivated by fear and impatience. Life is sweet for an innocent. Life is sour for a sentient.