15 years ago my best friend died after a car hit her. She was on her way to school, probably walking while dreaming about her future. About the things she wanted to do, the day coming up. Off course, I don’t know this. But I knew her. I know she lived her life everyday, without fear. She had just had her 16th birthday, one week before she died. Almost an adult, but with so many years in front of her.
People say that often the best people die first. I know this is a cliche, and that sometimes we forget the negative after someone dies. But I know the reality of what we experienced together. How she made me laugh about anything. Forgetting the people around us, making me feel so happy. I remember her smile, her wisdom beyond her years.
I never forgot her. I also couldn’t stop the pain of feeling torn in two. The tears that never stopped, the funeral where I sang for her. Where I went to the front of the church to tell her how much she meant to me. The way I couldn’t cope with others smiling, laughing together. How dark the world got, my nightmares.
Today she is still there. The guilt over me surviving when she didn’t. And her voice, telling me not to be stupid. That she wants me to live life to the fullest. That I owe her to experience the things I couldn’t.
I will never forget you. And I’m glad. I’m glad for every second we spent together.