Unfortunately, that statement is probably the most accurate description of our experience that I've come across.
:(
Even though I'm pessimistic by nature, I suppose that there are still a lot of things that inspire confidence-or at the very least, hope-in the future.
I don't know if this will help your friend, but maybe it will give her an opportunity to reflect upon some of the more fulfilling aspects of life.
When Tora's parents decided to conceive and bring her into this world, their overriding concern wasn't how it would impact their own lives, but rather, what she would be, and how they could facilitate her own growth as a human being.
Their love for her wasn't contingent upon the frailties of health, or the vagaries of the human condition.
It was a gift that was bequeathed to her unconditionally; something which stands apart from time, and which-hopefully-transcends whatever tragedies may befall the people who imbued her with this uniquely parental affection.
Our lives and our corporeal presence are transitory, but there are some things that-if we're lucky-will be embedded in our collective memory permanently, even after the events that occasioned those reflections have evaporated, and the people who made them are no longer there to share them with us.
I know that it's probably not much of a consolation at this moment, but I think that if she can care for her existing family and friends-while grieving for the loss of those who she's no longer able to reach-she'll be able to cope somewhat with the pain and loss she's experiencing right now.
what worries me is she keeps stuff bottled up real tight.
I think of life as more of a school. But I suppose it could be a hospital....No, I'm in Canada. It would then be full of people waiting for service, and union workers trying not to give it to them.
;-0