My cousin Michelle passed away on Thursday. She was only 55. So I wanted to write a bit about her.

We were the only children on my mom’s side of the family until she was 15 and her brother was born, so we spent a lot of time together. We would spend summers together at our grandparents’ house. They lived near Disneyland, and we would go every year. She was 5 years older than me, and I followed her around and idolized her like a big sister.

She always made me feel included. When she went to school at U.C. Irvine, some of my favorite memories are going to visit her in the dorms. I learned to ski with her and her freshman-year friends at Big Bear.

When we were growing up, I remembered her getting sick a lot. I don’t think anyone understood what was happening at the time. As she got older, it got worse, and she was ultimately diagnosed with a genetic disorder that affected her lung function. More and more often, she would end up in the hospital with lung infections and pneumonia. When she was in high school, she played flute in the marching band – they even performed in the Rose Parade once! But years later, she didn’t have the lung capacity to play at all.

Eventually, she had to go on supplemental oxygen. You have to be down to 20% lung function to be considered for a lung transplant, so she waited and got worse. It was so stressful for her to be dependent on having an oxygen tank, especially in L.A. where you could get unexpectedly stuck in traffic and be delayed.

Unlike kidneys, for example, the waiting list for heart/lung transplants is relatively short because most people die waiting. I feel like it was less than a year after she got added to the list that she got the call. I’ll never forget the photo her brother took of a helicopter landing on the hospital helipad, carrying her new lungs. When I visited her in the hospital afterward, she couldn’t really talk, but she could breathe without an oxygen tank. It felt like a miracle.

Statistically, about 16% of people are still alive 10 years after a lung transplant. For Michelle, it had been 12. We are all trying to focus on the extra 12 years we got with her. She got to celebrate her 50th birthday, attend my wedding, and spend a lot of time with her only nephew, who is 11. After my uncle died, she moved in with her mom, and they were a great source of support for each other. They recently got to take a trip to France together, a cruise up the Seine. They moved to San Diego to be near her brother and family, and helped a lot in providing childcare for her nephew. She ended up getting to know our extended family better and went to some family reunions. She made the most of those 12 years.

It still just feels so unfair. She has been sick almost all of her life. Prior to Obamacare, she had to stay at jobs she hated because of the health insurance. Later, she had trouble keeping a job at all because she would end up in the hospital for long stretches. But she rarely complained, and always tried to stay positive. She was a thoughtful, caring person who was always kind to others.

I was planning to go visit her in San Diego, but I figured I’d see her in L.A. for my mom’s 80th birthday, and then would go visit in July or August. She was already too sick to do the drive to L.A. in April, so I didn’t see her then. Nobody realized how serious it was. The last time I saw her was at Christmas.

She was a good person who got dealt an unfair hand. I loved her very much, and I’ll miss her.