Dear Adri,

It's sort of funny. It's 1:13 am, the 18th of September. 2 years ago at right about now, I remember laying in bed, trying to get to sleep and a hundred thousand thoughts whizzing through my head.

My flight reservation was made and I'd be getting on the 4:30 am shuttle to go to Atlanta to take a 6:30 am flight to Pittsburgh. My bags were packed. Everyone was alerted that I'd be leaving and off work for a few days at least.

And I lay there, in bed, unable to sleep. My best friend was going to the hospital to have her heart removed and someone else's put into her body. Someone else's child had just been declared brain dead, and as their hearts were breaking and shattering, the atrophied worn out mass of muscles that miraculously kept pumping was getting ready to let go so that someone else's child could keep you with us even a bit longer.

I think we were all so afraid, and so confused and... well so excited at the possibility that you would be able to feel better. Less weary, able to get up and go when you wanted to. We all wanted for you to feel so much better. And yet, we all knew the risks too.

It seems so long ago. A different world when I had fewer worries even though they felt tremendous at the time. I look back at those worries now and they seem to minute and distant and inconsequential.

It's hard to believe that it has been 2 years.

Last week I had to have a minor operation. Nothing even worth getting excited about. When the nurse asked why I waited so long to do it, I looked at her and said "for the past two years, I haven't had time to do anything" and I meant it. Where did the time go? I know the past two years have been a rush to fill a tremendous void but that's not the point.

It's also sort of funny. The other night I dreamed the phone rang. I answered it and it was you. We had a great conversation catching up on things. You asked my how the yard was, and what was going on with Dad, and then you said the strangest thing. You told me I probably needed to quit worrying so much. It struck me as pretty funny that you, Oh-Queen-Fretter-von-Worrisome told me that. But then I realized you were not alive any more, and maybe you had a point, and worrying wasn't the answer. I enjoyed the call by the way. It was good to hear your laugh.

I think I miss that almost most of all. The crackling song of your laughter in all it's pitches and melodies. And knowing I could call you any time of the day or night and you'd be glad to hear from me. That was really special. Thank you.

Yet, I know the people who gave you the heart of their own child are grieving tonight too.

It's sad that it's such a heart wrenching time. You never were able to write the letter to them thanking them for their sacrifice... I know they would have appreciated it. And we can't really do that for you, but we can all remember that tonight, on this auspicious anniversary, as we are missing you so much with your laughter, and sense of acceptance and mischief, and unbounded love, that because someone else was willing to find hope for a stranger in the searing haze of their own devastating loss, we also found that hope from a most generous stranger. And sharing that hope, regardless of the outcome binds us all together.

I miss you so much Adri.

Thank you for everything, including being such a tough broad.

I love you.