In the beginning of our junior year, my best friend, Aria, was diagnosed with cancer. Aria. The person that would befriend the outcast in the room rather than the popular kid, although she herself fit in wherever she went. In the second grade she had come home from school and told her mom about the girl that was bullying me.
"She’s saying horrible things about Sonya, Ema” she had said. “They’re not true. I know they’re not. I’m going to be friends with Sonya.”
And so we became best friends. I stopped crying at the thought of going to school. I didn’t play by myself anymore. Me and Aria pretended we were daughters of the wind god, Aeolus, and we could control the wind with the wave of our fingers. Or that we were magicians with an army of penguins at our side. Or that we were angels on a mission to save the world. The wound in my heart was dissipating. I was very conscious that she had chosen me over popularity, and awed by her for being my friend while all of the other girls in the second grade perceived me as the weird person my bully had painted me to be. And so from Aria I learned how to treat people. I learned that opening your heart to others, no matter who they seemed to be, was the way to live your life. I didn’t have to be liked by everyone. Nor did I care about popularity. What was important was having the handful of those who truly loved you by your side. And I had Aria, and she had me, and both she and I knew we would always have each other.
On July 21st, the day before my 17th birthday, she had come over and brought me vegan cupcakes.
She sang happy birthday to me, and we chatted away. Not too long after that, we had made plans to see each other. But then Aria passed away. September 14, 2019. I had been fully expecting to see her that weekend, oblivious that my birthday celebration would be the last time I ever saw her.
On the first couple of nights after she passed, I felt the most pain before falling asleep. It was like the pain was a balloon and during the day, as I completed the millions of things I had to do, it retained its air, but right before bed, it popped. I missed her, and it hurt so much. But I had almost immediately realized that this was the only thing that was making me sad. The memories we’d shared, everything she’d taught me- those things made me happy. Photos of her made me smile. She had done all she needed to do in this world. She was finally free from pain. I was glad.
By Jewish tradition, Shiv’a (Seven days of mourning.) was held in her home. An entourage of people attended, sharing food and memories. That was where her mother, Lee, told the story of our friendship, telling me what Aria had said to her in the second grade. As I listened to Lee’s stories and and attacked Aria’s kitten with affection, I gained an enormous sense of healing. It was alright, even if I could only stay for an hour everyday. Life would continue to move at its ruthlessly fast pace and the only thing I could do was to accept it.
At graduation I’ll sing, “Because I knew you, I have been changed for the better” with the rest of the school choir, and I don’t think there’s anything that will prevent me from tearing up. But that’s okay. I have gained a guardian angel, and me and my best friend are still forever together. I will live like she did, live for her, with kindness, to my very last breaths…
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