Early this year I found out through an Instagram post that my best friend was diagnosed with cancer. So many thoughts started to run through my head such as, “Why didn’t she tell me?”, “What type of cancer does she have?”, “Does she need me?”, etc. We had a really bad argument hadn’t talked to each other in weeks. I immediately contacted her and tried to get all the answers that she could give me, and assured her that I would always be there for her. Things got back to normal, we talked on a daily basis, we each filling each other on our lives, and she seemed to be beating cancer. June came along and she suddenly didn’t feel so great. During a long distance trip with her family she started to feel bad, but didn’t want to tell her family because they were all haven fun. While she was venting to me, I assured her that her family would understand. Communicate stopped for a few days.

June 3rd, she finally told me she was hospitalized and that she was to undergo a very risky surgery, that would take place June 5th–my birthday. I had planned on surprising her that day, I hadn’t physically seen her in months due to my crazy school schedule and to her being back at her strict father’s home. She notified me that she wouldn’t be able to keep in touch since she was going to be in recuperating. Her surgery took place on a Sunday; Monday came along-nothing, Tuesday-nothing. I never got a reply from text I sent her, but Wednesday came along and first thing I see when I wake up is a missed call from my best friend, relief was the first thing that came over me. I called her right away, but to my surprise it was her sister, she broke the news to me softly…she said my best friend was dead. I was quite due to the shock, then she told me that she was actually in a coma, but that the whole family decided to pull the plug on Friday so that all her friends and family would say goodbye. I told her how sorry I was for their loss and she said the same to me.

The rest of that day and Thursday went by like a blur, I was numb–I felt like a zombie. I got home Thursday night from the babysitting job I was doing at my boss’ home, and I saw my mother and just broke down crying. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much in my life. My mom didn’t  speak but just hugged me and let me cry, which is what I so desperately needed. On Friday, a friend of mine decided to tag along with me to say her goodbyes to my best friend. When we got to the hospital and reached my best friend’s room, I was deeply sadden to see her in that state, with tubs and machines surrounding her extremely pale and weak looking body. This was the same person who in my eyes I saw as the strongest person I knew, and the person I staring at wasn’t her. I said my goodbyes to her and there was a lot of crying involved (obviously). 

When I think of my best friend now there is a lot that comes to my head. There comes pain and sadness because she was only 21, and had so much to live for; I was going to miss her every day of my life, and because I knew she died unhappy. But then I feel happy and thankful that I got to meet her. She was the funniest and most sarcastic person ever, she knew how to drive me insane, make me laugh, and changed me for the better. She knew everything about me, things that my own family don’t know. Some days are so hard to be without her, just to hear her say something stupid or ridiculous, or spam me by tagging me on memes on Instagram or Facebook. She was my partner in crime, and will always be. 

I love you best friend–who was also a clown, a wrestler, a smart ass, and a goofball.

R.I.P June 10,2016

Stay safe,

Angie c:

Advertisements