It gets me each month to go to the Wall, Maz, and read the mixed sorrow and anger of those whose loved ones deprived them of hugs. The only sick sense of comfort I find is that I didn't know these folks who died, or those who loved them and are forced to keep living, and we didn't share memories. But then I stop and think, I could actually be just one puff of nicotine away from writing the final chapter of my life here on earth, and becoming just one more name, number or statistic that either does or doesn't get mentioned on the Wall.