I wrote this after one of my best friends lost her dad on Thanksgiving. She became depressed and I seemed to be the only one who worried. I know I wasn't, but sometimes it felt that way. All of our other friends always told me to leave her alone and that she would get over it at her own pace. Well, I didn't listen. I rarely do. I did whatever I could to help, no matter what anyone else said. While they were off laughing and joking around, I was worried sick about her. Not only that, but I was the only one from that group of friends who went to her father's wake. I went to both, even though I had never met him. I went both times just to see her. For what seemed like forever she just moped around, and I couldn't stand it. Needless to say, she's still my friend.