Today is new computer day.

I've been without a working device for a long, long while -- so this evening has also been filled with reminiscing on thousands of pictures, almost all of my 20's caught on "film" just waiting for today.

And it makes me happy. I've had an amazing life so far.

There has been so much love, joy, growth, happiness, laughter, and friendship.

There was some loss, and with that grief -- but here we are. I'm a better person for knowing these people. All of them.

I've spent the last decade of my life listening to people from all walks of life, I'm thankful for that experience.

I'm thankful to the house I called home for that period of my life -- it allowed me a safe space, it allowed me a home filled with joy, and people, so so many people.

If you're in your 20's, I highly suggest living in a house with many others, stay as long as you can, learn how to cohabitate with everyone. Find the tumbleweeds, the people who are just passing through, the musicians, the couch surfers, the travelers. House them, hear their stories, fill them with good food and send them off with love, best wishes, and the promise of lifelong friendships.

My 20's was everything it should have been, and probably some of what it shouldn't have been -- but all of it was beautiful.

And here now, 33, baby girl on the way, our first. She is already so, so loved, and her daddy and I are so ready for all the adventures she will bring.

She comes from the most perfect human I've ever met, my husband is just simply good.

I am so, so lucky.

And now back to reminiscing...

Two conversations — two different people — both littered with tears.

One, though, was more of a comfort.

I‘ve been thinking a lot about how to mourn — how to prepare for this loss — what I need to ask for to help me through this loss. I realized today that the very best thing you can do for someone who is hurting is to listen to them, to give them space to cry, to tell them it is okay. And to not offer advice.

Crying on my pillow in bed with my husband laying next to me — just watching me — letting me cry, creating a safe space to mourn this very difficult loss. Telling me he loves me, knowing he will do anything to help me, without saying a word except whispers of I‘m sorry this is happening, and soft I love yous...

No advice, no trying to tell me not to mourn this loss yet, because it’s too soon...

But it’s not too soon...my friend is dying, and it hurts to not be able to do anything.

and I’m going to miss his friendship — it’s one of the best I’ve ever known.

Cancer is just horrible...

But even though love cannot save him, I think it will help save me from so much more pain.

The last few years have been a whirlwind of every emotion you could possibly feel. The most joy of my life, marrying the most incredible human I‘ve ever met, getting to work my dream job every day (at home), planning for an eventual baby (eek!) But man, has it ever also been filled with so much uncertainty — some fear — and some pain. At this point it feels like I have needed to put my (our) life on hold...while we do everything we can to make the most of the last few months of the life of one of my very best friends. Dying far too young — suffering far too long. At this point I’ve been afraid to plan our delayed reception because I know myself well enough to know I won’t be able to peel myself out of bed when my friend dies, no matter what plans exist. None of it will matter. I’m afraid to try for a baby yet because I am so terrified of the toll this loss will take. There is so much guilt with being the person who is left alive when someone dies so young. He‘s younger than I am. It breaks me just thinking about what is now just a matter of time. I don’t know how to handle this...but really...does anybody? Does anybody know how to best handle your closest friend dying? Cancer isn’t fast, it’s slow, it’s painful, and it’s beyond raw. It‘s dying too soon, and it’s absolutely horrific to watch to be honest. And so here I am, in this space, because quite frankly I’m already mourning...but it is not time yet. But I’m scared too...and I’m not ready.

There is much joy.

I suppose I have always written to work things out -- vent, breathe, meditate, and let go. I write when I need to say something but I'm just not quite sure what it is yet. Historically I have written through pain -- and as I get older I find myself writing less. Reading more. Relaxing and not worrying quite so much -- not having quite so much to worry about I suppose...

I suppose this feeling might even be called peace by some.