Jim and I were two kids growing up in the foothills of North Carolina. We were the best of friends. We did everything together. We even had numerous inside jokes. We very seldom disagreed. When we did, it was always over something stupid. In the end, we would always make up and laugh about how ridiculous we were. Jim and I loved each other in a way that only best friends could. We even had the same birthday. We never thought that we would ever separate, but one day, we did. One day, when we were only twelve, we were riding the bus to go home. Suddenly, the bus slipped on a patch of ice. The next thing I knew, I received a hit to the head, and everything went dark. When I woke up, I looked over at Jim. "Aubrey," he murmured faintly, "are you okay?" I said, "I'm fine. Are you okay?" He said, "I don't think so. I'm in pain here." After a pause he said, "I want to tell you one last thing." I said, "Jim, please don't talk like that. You're going to be okay." He said, "Aubrey, you're the best friend I ever had." All I could do was watch as his life ebbed away. I held my lifeless friend in my arms. I wept like I never wept before. As for me, I had a mild concussion, but it was nothing compared to the pain of losing my best friend. It felt as if a part of me had died. I told my mother, "It's not fair. You're not supposed to lose your best friend at my age." She hugged me and said, "I know, dear. Life isn't fair." I said, "I miss him." She said, "I know you do. I think that Jim would want you to be happy. I'm not saying you can't miss him. I'm not saying don't cry over him. I'm saying that Jim wouldn't want you to be so depressed you can't enjoy life." I found those words comforting, but there were so many things I would have liked to tell Jim, but I never got to tell him. As a result, I slipped into a depression.
TO BE CONTINUED
TO BE CONTINUED