What do you say? What do you say when no words seem quite right? When nothing makes sense? When you read on a page, "According to the doctors, there is essentially nothing more they can do..."?

When doctors can do no more for a body that's fighting a septic blood infection, there's not much to say. Only tears, as I unclenched my hands and let go of the hope I'd been holding onto so tight, for so long, that she'd get better.

I never met Sybil in person, I'm sad to say. But we were friends online for years. We talked online. We talked on the phone. We shared ideas of life, karma, spirituality, and plans of one day having sushi and green tea together. I wanted to meet her pets and see her home, and walk among the vibrantly green trees with her, to see the sky as she saw it with her poet eyes. To sit with her face to face and share the same wonderful conversations we had on the phone, in person. I wanted so much to see her get better.

I was one of the people she called personally when she found out she had cancer. That was a hard day. There have been other hard days and other good days as I heard of her journey with cancer. Hearing that she was so glad to be able to drink water again was a nice day.

In December, I heard she was home. A few weeks ago, I saw a link to her very close friend, Jessica's, blog. Sybil went back to the hospital in January. The more I read, the more I cried. But I still had hope, before Saturday. ...nothing more they can do.

Sybil's machines will be turned off Wednesday. She is not expected to survive more than 48 hours after that. Those closest to her think she may already be gone. She just turned 32.

I'm having a hard time with this, which is not out of the ordinary, I know. I think the hardest part is letting go of all the hopes I had of meeting her, of spending time with her, of getting to know her even better. I truly saw the possibility of her being a lifetime friend of mine, someone I would love to know for decades and decades. And now that's not going to happen.

We're all grieving at different levels, it seems. Her parents and fiance, her pets (I'm sure), her best friends, and her online friends, some of whom she knew better than others... We're all sad in different ways. I can't know what it must be like for those who have known Sybil in person for years and are so close to her, and love her deeply. I only know what I'm going through, and that it's pretty tough, and that I keep crying when I think of losing her, that I'm crying now as I write this. My friendship with Sybil means a great deal to me, and even though I never met her in person, she was never just an online friend to me. She is my good friend, Sybil. I love her and everything she ever shared with me, the things she taught me, and the way I looked at life through her words, spoken and written. I am blessed to have known her, and I can't quite describe how much I'll miss her, how much I already do.