In Bloom

The flowers bloomed on the day she died. Ironic, maybe, but perfect in a sickening way.1

I was eleven and I had never known that anything like this could even happen. Sure, I had heard of cancer, but I never knew how destructive it could be. I never knew how it could damage friendships or how it somehow killed the people who lived.2

It was January when she was diagnosed. A rare form of leukemia, but they thought a little chemo would do the trick. I watched her deteriorate from the outside in, and all I remember from those first few months was her strength. I've often thought that maybe if I could have been as brave as she was, maybe I'd be okay now.3

The chemo did something to her - poisoned not only her body but her mind. We grew apart in those months, and it tore me in half. I remember crying at night and thinking nobody could possibly understand what was happening to me. Selfish, probably, but I couldn't take the fact that she was on a journey I'd never understand, and my inability to feel what she felt separated us in so many ways. Best friends, still, but something was different.4

The months passed quickly, too quickly, and we watched as she was devoured by the monster ravaging her insides. She tried to pretend she was getting better, but each meeting with the doctor made her parents cry harder. I'll never forget their faces, their tears. I was so afraid, because if adults could cry, then there must be nothing that we could do. Nothing to do to save her, but I still had hope. I thought that if there was a God, he would see their pain and help her.5

I woke up one morning, just a regular morning, and I saw the flowers in the garden. I knew, somehow I knew, that she'd be okay. She had to be okay, because she had to see this beauty, this life. Maybe if she could see new life, she could gain new life. It was April 19, 2001, and I was happier than I'd been in months. I went to school almost skipping, because I knew my best friend would be back soon and things would be different.6

People kept looking at me weird, as if because my friend had cancer, I couldn't be happy. I couldn't explain to them how I knew she'd get better, because they'd never understand. They never did.7

It was 11:12 AM when they called me to the school office. My parents were there, stone-faced, as if trying to smooth over their faces and erase any emotion. They told me that we were going to the hospital, that we had to see Crystyn RIGHT NOW. We went out to the car, but before I got in, I made sure to pick some flowers, to show her they were in bloom. She always loved flowers, but when I turned around I swore my mother's eyes were wet. I dismissed the thought and happily got into the car. Everything would be okay now. They were taking me to see her, because she'd be getting out, and we'd all live happily ever after.8

We arrived at the hospital at 11:47. In the elevator, my mother told me to be strong. Confused, I pressed the button for the 3rd floor and waited for the doors to open, for my life to begin again.9

We walked down the hall to her room, and after half-smiling at her parents, trying my hardest not to notice their tears, I went in. It was 11:54.10

The moment I walked in, I knew that I had been tricked. Her blonde hair was dull and she was almost transparent. Finally, I realized that this was why I had to be strong. I went over to her and showed her the flowers. "Crys, the flowers bloomed today.." She tried to smile but I could tell it hurt. I set them on the bed and held her hand. She looked at me, and tried to comfort me. She was the one dying, and she had to comfort me. I hated it, but I couldn't keep from crying. She squeezed my hand and said "It's okay, I'm okay now, I'm finally okay."11

I told her I loved her, that she was my best friend, that I'd never let this happen. I said all the things I had always forgotten to say, but it wasn't enough. Our parents came into the room, and finally, surrounded by the people she loved, she left. It was 12:06.12

Two days later, I dressed slowly, not knowing what to wear. What do you wear when you're saying goodbye? I arrived at the church, knowing I had to let her go one last time. I stared at the coffin, unable to process what was going on. She wasn't in there, she couldn't be in there. The girl who was once so full of life was stuck inside a black box. "She can't breathe!" I kept thinking, knowing it didn't matter but caring anyway. 13

After the funeral, I stayed at the grave, telling my parents I'd walk home. A red rose in hand, I sat down and told her everything that I never had, that I had never been able to say. I pricked myself with the rose and the blood ran down my finger, but I didn't notice. Dropping her favorite CD, a letter, and the rose into the grave, I wept for my best friend. Tears streaming down my face, I turned around and ran down to the little stream where we had spent so much time. 14

Throwing all of the bracelets and jewelry we had bought together into the river, I screamed until I couldn't scream any more. Sinking to my knees, with the water rushing around and the flowers in bloom, I was finally able to say goodbye.15