The LastA Story by Kathryn SmithThe evil it spread like a fever ahead March 6th, 2012. A text: I have the worst news ever. When would be a good time to call you? I giggled replying. What's up? No reply. You can call me now. I'm free! She was always so funny. A drama queen. Her brother probably ate her candy bar. No reply. Tick Tock. Tick tock. Tick tock . TICK TOCK . No reply. Our home phone rings. My mother answers. She resorts to her bedroom. The door is closed. An hour later she opens my door. She sits me down on my bed. The girl with special needs to others, but normal to me.. Who I befriended taking my fathers advice in Jr High... The one I had parties with, who I exchanged gifts with... Who I protected from the bullies, who I stood up for.. The human being I shared secrets with and who I had little fights with.. Had tumors spreading in her spine. They were so far advanced that there was no need for chemo. So far advanced that my best friend was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Tears. Tears. More tears. My mother embraced me. Wails came out of my mouth. I broke. In the course of an hour, our silent house heard each stage of grief flow out of my soul. A book from my father was given to me. His name, the date, and encouraging words. The end of winter air knew. The dead birch trees knew. The woodland creatures knew. The grey sky above knew. And the news was sounded. To teachers, to friends, to loved ones. The florist was visited. Flowers, a bear and balloon. She came home from the hospital. I visited her with a friend. But more than anything I wanted to speak with her alone. I had so many things to say. So many things to ask. But people People More people had the same idea. April showed up and the weather was miraculously warm. Her right side paralyzed, she sat in a wheel chair. Outside we sat in the sun. Chocolate cake. Confused trees. Happy birds chirping.
My legs covered in goose bumps. A last birthday party was thrown. A wish was made. A cake from Buddy, the Cake Boss. People. People. More people. I looked in her eyes across the way. But she grew angry and looked away. Origami paper cranes are created. Our goal was 1000. We watch movies. I stay by her side. She's alert, but very tired. Days flash by. And we eat pizza and watch more television. After a weekend away for another friend's birthday, I return home. Saturday, the morning light is crystal blue and bright. I skip downstairs and find my parents in the kitchen. They have a look in their eyes and I know. I frantically run to the window and look up to the sky. She's gone. She left the day before on Friday, April 13th. Rush. Pain. Grief. Disbelief. We fly to make 1000 paper cranes. Success. The wake. She is sleeping in her casket. Walking with the cranes I place each crane at her still feet. The 1000th one I place in her hand. Her face is peaceful. But her soul gone. Pictures. Tears. People. People More people. But not enough people this time. Facebook. I'm furious. Livid. Her face is all over the place, like some kind of animal. The bullies that hurt her post her obituary. They claim to be her friend. Bullshit. I was her only friend. The funeral. People cry. My friends stand together holding hands. Their eyes rivers. But my eyes dry. I shake, and I tremble, my sister touches my shoulder..but still I hold dry eyes. Why? We drive to the cemetery. We walk on spring grass. The gravestones glitter from the morning dew. She is lowered to the ground. Balloons are let go to the sky. Soon they are fading dots. I drop a white rose on her casket. People turn around. A dump truck appears. My mother tells me not to watch. But I do. And to my horror dirt is carelessly dumped on my best friend. We leave. We go out for ice cream. My black coat still smells of my perfume, my mourning and flowers. My young 19 year old eyes are hopeless. My heart lost and overwhelmed. The world around me is somber. And my blue ice cream tastes of ash. I was the last one. The last with her before the casket was closed forever. The first to place the 1000th crane in her dead hand. The first girl to befriend her. The last girl to say goodbye. 4 years later and I drive out into the country to see her. Down the long and curvy country road, the steeple greets me in view. Though by the bushes and under the tree she is never there. Just the stone she picked out herself, a shooting star, and butterflies. I was the last to be with her and I'll always be the last to give up on our friendship. Friends are forever. Even when you're gone. Had I known then what I know now, I would have been blown away by awe. Love keeps us alive.
© 2017 Kathryn SmithAuthor's Note
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Added on February 19, 2016Last Updated on February 18, 2017 Author
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