My Best Friend

December 13, 2011
He died in 7th grade. It just had to be him. Him who happened to be MY best friend. Him who it just HAD to happen to. A day to be remembered in, now only a sad way. Why couldnt it have been me? Why him?

Every year on November 15th I cry, remebering all the good times we had together. All the arguments we had. Thinking of how long I knew him. Was it five years? Or six? I go and visit him almost every week. My mom says i'll get over it. I dont think so. I read him my papers and I tell him all about my schoolwork. He's a very good listener, but never does any of the talking. I tell him I miss him alot. I have his epitaph memorized. My names on it. His parents are still having a hard time, like me. My mom still asks me why I remember him, he died 3 years ago. Why I'm still sad. Why I even bother to go there almost every day now. She doesnt have as much information on the death as I do. All she knows is he was my best friend and he died. She has not the least bit of an idea how I feel. She doesn't even ask. When I feel the time is right, I'll tell her the truth:

Mom, you have no idea what im feeling right now. He was my best friend and you know that, so dont ask why I still go see him or why I talk to him. I will always remember him, no matter how hard I try to forget. Its not easy mom. He died on a day that I will never forget. A day you will never forget. You dont understand. Mom, He died on my birthday.

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