![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/6a343977190000659d276632.png\")
The author (left), age 2, and her sister Michelle, age 5. <\/p>\n\u201cWhat matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.\u201d \u2014 Linda Ellis<\/p>\n
I last saw my older sister Michelle in the ICU. Her face was chalk white. Her eyes were listless. The thumping of my heart drowned out all the beeping monitors she was hooked up to.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ever think it would come to this?\u201d she asked me.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer her, probably because I was in shock, but, no, I never thought it would come to that. <\/p>\n
Michelle and I were diagnosed with cystic fibrosis when we were babies. We were three years apart in age and weren\u2019t supposed to survive beyond elementary school.<\/p>\n
The author (left), age 2, and her sister Michelle, age 5. <\/p>\n
Courtesy of Lisa Zaccaria<\/p>\n
As children, we were healthier than most people with CF. But as our disease progressed into adulthood, we spent more time in the hospital than we did at home, trying to keep our lungs healthy when bacteria wanted to destroy them. Still, we defied the odds and beat every statistic.<\/p>\n
However, this time was different for Michelle. Thick mucus blocked her airways, forcing her to breathe in ragged gasps despite receiving the highest oxygen levels from a machine by her bed. <\/p>\n
As Michelle was dying, I couldn\u2019t help but think about how she lived her life as fully as she could. I was scared to get my learner\u2019s permit, but Michelle got it the day she turned 16. I was afraid to fly to visit my grandmother in Florida, but Michelle often did.<\/p>\n
It seemed impossible that my sister was dying. She was so full of life. <\/p>\n
When Michelle\u2019s body was too exhausted to breathe on its own, she needed to go on a ventilator and was given a 50% chance of surviving. My grandmother told her she\u2019d be OK, but Michelle knew better.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need to accept that I may not survive this,\u201d she told us. \u201cIt\u2019s a win\/win situation. If I make it, I will be with all of you. If I don\u2019t, I will be with family in heaven who died before me.\u201d<\/p>\n
![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/6a343957190000289d276630.png\")
The author (right) with her sister Michelle. “This was at my high school graduation party in 1996,” the author writes. “I was 18 and Michelle was 21.”<\/p>\n
Courtesy of Lisa Zaccaria<\/p>\n
Michelle passed four days later at the age of 35, two years shy of the predicted life expectancy of 37 we received as children. She had accepted her fate rather than trying to fight a losing battle.<\/p>\n
There were so many things that were left unsaid, but it\u2019s the questions I can\u2019t ask her anymore that haunt me the most \u2014 especially did she forgive me for being cruel to her? I still desperately need answers.<\/p>\n
A couple of years before she died, she had sinus surgery, a procedure many people with CF undergo. Before her surgery, Michelle asked my mother and grandmother to be at the hospital with her. She was never afraid to show her vulnerability. Instead, she drew strength from being with the two people she was the closest to in her life.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just sinus surgery. It\u2019s no big deal,\u201d I shouted angrily. \u201cWhen are you going to grow up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re so mean,\u201d her voice quivered. She bowed her head, walked quickly to her room and slammed the door.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t know that beneath my tough exterior, I was worried for her, but I was more concerned about myself. I didn\u2019t want her to make a big deal about sinus surgery because when it was my turn to have it, I wouldn\u2019t make a big deal of it either. But it was a big deal. With CF, everything was more complicated, more serious and the risk more ominous. I never got to tell her how sorry I was for being unkind because I was frightened.<\/p>\n
Fear followed me like a shadow. With a death sentence always looming, I\u2019ve spent most of my life thinking I was going to die. CF, diabetes and a host of other medical complications headlined my life. What was I going to get diagnosed with next? If I had a headache, I was convinced it was a brain tumor. If I had a bruise, I was sure it was a sign of leukemia. If I was tired, I just knew I had cancer. These thoughts gave me paralyzing anxiety that stopped me from truly living. <\/p>\n
A week after Michelle passed, I stood in her room looking through her things. I was still afraid to touch the shirts and pants hanging in her closet. She always knew whenever I borrowed them, even if I returned them exactly as I had found them.<\/p>\n
\u201cLisa!\u201d She\u2019d yell at me. \u201cWhy did you take my shirt without asking?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause if I asked, you would\u2019ve said no.\u201d <\/p>\n
I walked to her desk and smiled at the picture of her and her cocker spaniel, Jake. I turned and looked at him lying on Michelle\u2019s chair, gazing intently out the window. I told myself he was bird-watching, but I knew he was waiting for his owner to pull up in her white Honda. <\/p>\n
![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/6a343920190000289d27662e.png\")
The author’s sister Michelle with her dog, Jake. “This was taken in 2009, one year before she passed away at 35,” the author writes.<\/p>\n
Courtesy of Lisa Zaccaria<\/p>\n
I opened her desk drawer. There was nothing there but a neatly folded piece of paper. That\u2019s weird, I thought. The other drawers were filled with craft supplies for her Cricut machine, which she used to make her own greeting cards.<\/p>\n
I unfolded the paper and found a poem by Linda Ellis titled \u201cThe Dash.\u201d The verses referred to the dash on a tombstone between someone\u2019s birth date and death date, and how, most importantly, that little line represents how they lived in between those years.<\/p>\n
As I read the lines, the last stanza of the poem awakened something in me:<\/p>\n
Would you be proud of the things they say<\/p>\n
About how you spent YOUR dash?<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t proud of the way I was spending my dash. I wasn\u2019t living, I was merely existing. At 32, I never truly lived because I was waiting to die. I was convinced that Michelle left that poem for me to find. <\/p>\n
I knew my life needed to change.<\/p>\n
On the speedboat in the middle of Key Largo Bay, I watched the technician prepare the parasail swing. The sun shone down on the vast, murky water that surrounded me. My hand gripped my chest, then the back of my neck, and finally landed on my head like it had a life of its own. <\/p>\n
\u201cAre you sure this is safe?\u201d I asked the technician. \u201cHow high will I be going?\u201d<\/p>\n
The yellow smiley face canopy did little to calm my nerves. <\/p>\n
\u201cAbout 400 feet. We have a 99.9% safety rating. You\u2019re in good hands,\u201d he replied a little too cheerfully.<\/p>\n
With my luck, I would be that 0.1% who fell, I thought. I chased the fear away because it had been chasing me for far too long. I reminded myself that \u201cThe Dash\u201d poem was tucked safely in my pocket.<\/p>\n
I stood near the swing as the technician strapped me in a body harness. My hands gripped the rope, and my knuckles turned white. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou ready to soar? In five, four, three, two …\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, wait,\u201d I screamed and closed my eyes. My mind was like a skipping record, jumping forward, overdramatizing worst-case scenarios. But I came this far. I conquered my fear of flying to be here, and now I couldn\u2019t back out.<\/p>\n
I opened my eyes, looked at the technician and nodded my head. He lifted me from the deck of the boat. My dangling legs began to stiffen.<\/p>\n
Please, I thought, don\u2019t let me fall. <\/p>\n
As I rose higher and higher everything below me became smaller and smaller. I could almost touch the clouds and no longer heard the boat\u2019s engine. The technician wouldn\u2019t even hear me if I screamed. I took deep breaths and finally relaxed my grip. Weightless, like a butterfly, I welcomed the quiet calmness.<\/p>\n
![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/6a34389f190000c09c276628.png\")
The author parasailing in Key Largo Bay, Florida, in 2018.<\/p>\n
Courtesy of Lisa Zaccaria<\/p>\n
Michelle passed away 16 years ago. Before her death, I had built a cocoon, stuck myself inside, and was afraid to break free. It was a failed existence, and I missed out on so many things. After she died and I found the poem, I was propelled by adventure, made bold choices and took risks. <\/p>\n
Doctors tell me that the median age of survival for someone with CF is now 66 years<\/a>, thanks to new life-saving medications. However, a cold, flu, or COVID could affect my lungs and jeopardize my life. Regardless, I am going to continue to move forward and live my life without regret. That is what living is all about. And even though Michelle wasn\u2019t physically beside me, I believed her spirit was flying with me above that bay. I imagined her looking at me and smiling proudly, as I lived my dash \u2014 not only for her, but for myself too. And I smiled back.<\/p>\n Courtesy of Lisa Zaccaria<\/p>\n Lisa Zaccaria is a writer and a founding member of Prose Playground Writing Community. She is working on a memoir about what it\u2019s like living with multiple chronic illnesses and defying the odds. Lisa lives outside of Boston and is 48 years old, which is 36 years longer than doctors first predicted she\u2019d live.<\/p>\n Do you have a compelling personal story you\u2019d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we\u2019re looking for here<\/a> and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u201cWhat matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.\u201d \u2014 Linda Ellis I…\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":914368,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_share_on_mastodon":"0"},"categories":[11],"tags":[4376,4446,210,247638,67,132,68],"class_list":["post-914367","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-health","tag-cystic-fibrosis","tag-death","tag-health","tag-sisters","tag-united-states","tag-unitedstates","tag-us"],"share_on_mastodon":{"url":"https:\/\/pubeurope.com\/@us\/116868067659373656","error":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/914367","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=914367"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/914367\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/914368"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=914367"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=914367"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=914367"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/07\/6a3438e0190000289d27662c.png\")
The author in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, in 2023.<\/p>\n