I hadn’t spoken to Lily in a while.
Not since camp had ended the month before.
I swiped my finger naively across the screen to see her text.
I assumed she wanted to hang out.
Little did I know.
“She died last night”
Those four words made my next four months living hell.
I didn’t cry. I couldn’t.
I stared at my screen in disbelief.
Rereading and rereading and rereading until my eyes blurred up with tears.
My phone fell out of my fingers, made weak from remorse.
I fell with it.
And only then did my blurry eyes release my eager tears.
It can’t be true. How is it possible for a fourteen-year-old girl to be gone?
What does it mean to be gone?
I didn’t truly understand permanent absence.
Until I could no longer call her.
Until I couldn’t tell her to stay strong anymore.
Until she was stolen from me abruptly.
Gone was her contagious strength.
Gone was her inspiring bravery.
Gone was my innocence, my inspiration.
I knew that our time together was limited but never thought of summer without her.
I knew that her diagnosis meant death, but I had hope.
Hope that cancer stepped on.
I never even got to say goodbye.