You know that one girlfriend that you absolutely love. Not in a lovey- dovey kind of way, be like a sister… even thought you are both sure you are not sisters separated at birth? Well that’s how Diana (Or Dia (Die-a) as I call her) and I were… we spend every moment that we could together. We always laughed our hearts out when we were with each other. We practically grew up at one another’s houses. We each call the others parents “Mom and Dad”. But that was before… in fact, that was exactly five years ago from today.
That day, it was sunny and it was the first true day of summer. All the yards were fresh and green and everything smelled like spring, still. The only difference was that it was eighty degrees in stead of sixty. My mom had driven me to Dia’s house.
“Have fun with Dia,” she said, “Tell her she needs to come over soon, we haven’t seen our adopted child in a while.” I laughed and pecked her on the cheek, thanking her for the ride over. I got out of our car with a backpack full of towels, a swimsuit, and candy on my back. I run up their cobblestone path at the front of their house.
I don’t even knock on the door; this place is so much like home. I just walk in. I look around at the beige room with the fluffy carpet that I have spilled so many things on that I can’t count. The glass coffee table is in the middle of it and the beige couch near the fire is just as I left it. There was only one difference this time and that was Dia and her mom. They were sitting on the couch, Dia in her mom’s arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. I did a double take at this; since we were both thirteen and we rarely hung with our mothers.
“Dia,” I said uncertainly… “What’s wrong?” Tears streamed down her face even more and her mother whispered something in her ear. Dia sighed.
“Tammi,” she said “I was just diagnosed with leukemia.” I looked at her, then her mother. They were not joking.
I knew what leukemia was, it was when she could not produce the right white blood cells to fight of disease and when her bone marrow where white cells are made.
“Oh Dia,” I exclaimed. I ran to her side, hugging her. “We learned about this in health. Maybe you could get a bone marrow transfer. Maybe we can cure you!” She looked at me with a little hope in her eyes, but it slowly disappeared.
“My parents tried that Tammi, they both went through tests to find out if they could help but they couldn’t.” I looked at her, determined.
“Maybe that’s because they are…. Not your age. Let me take the test. Let me help.” Again there was hope.
One month later we went to the doctors together and I took the test. I matched her type! My plan would work! We both cried that day, except for these were tears of joy. Unfortunately for me, this didn’t last long. Dia died the next day, when we were watching TV together. One moment we were joking about how stupid shows like Dora were, and the next moment she fell silent. I looked at her, and at her blank eyes.
“MRS. HOUTSON!” I screamed. She ran in and took one look at Dia, then told me to call 911. I did and an ambulance came within three minutes, but of course we were too late. Nothing could save her.
Five years later and I still go over her old home every day. Her parents and I use each other as crutches. I remember how I took her friendship for granted. If I could say anything to her, I would say “I love you Dia, and I miss you. You were the best friend a girl could ever have.” That it my story… how I lost my best friend, and now I raise as much money for cancer as humanly possible.