Narrative Essay: Losing a friend.
When I was thirteen years old I lost my best friend, Jessica. It’s a day I will never forget. Almost every detail is as fresh as it was the day it happened. It was a Monday, I was in middle school. I remember getting on the bus and feeling very strange and thinking to myself, “did I wear this outfit to school yesterday?” I brushed off the strange feeling when I concluded that no I did not because it was indeed Monday. I got to school went to my locker like normal and then went to my homeroom where I sat and talked to my friend. I remember asking if she had seen Jessica because I was waiting for her to get there. Jessica and I always went to get breakfast from the cafeteria together in the mornings. I figured she was just running a little late and decided to sit and talk with my friend a little more.
While sitting there talking to my friend another classmate ran into my homeroom class and was shouting “Jessica just collapsed out in the hallway!” to which everyone in the class rushed out into the hall while I’m yelling back at her “Which Jessica!” to which she replied “Batdorf”. I remember pushing through the crowd of kids circled around her lying on the ground. My teacher was holding her telling everyone to get back to class. My two other best friends were standing there with us; my teacher told the other teacher in the hall to call the nurse and again told us to return to our classrooms. We all did as we were told and I sat by the door of my classroom so I could keep an eye out. I watched out the windows next to the door as the nurse came up the elevator and started to preform CPR on her.
The guidance counselor seen my friend and I watching and came into the room and told me that Jessica was going to be fine and that I needed to return to my seat. She told me they were taking Jessie to the hospital and her mom was on her way. I remember seeing Dawn’s car pull up out front and watched her run into the building and her crying as she seen her daughter laying there. At that moment all I wanted to do was leave the room and hug her and go with them to the hospital but the guidance counselor wouldn’t let me leave the room. The whole school was to stay in homeroom until the ambulance and paramedics got there and had taken Jessica to the hospital.
After they had allowed us to leave the room I went to my first class where everyone was talking about what had happened, how we were going to visit her in the hospital, and how we all expected her to be ok. I don’t recall much of what we learned in class that day I was too concerned about my best friend to care honestly. After that class I had gym, where again everyone was talking about it. I heard from a few people that this one girl in our grade had made a horrible comment about the situation, so I got really angry and decided to go address the issue with my vice principle. When I got to the office I find that the vice principle was at the hospital with Jessica and her family and that my issue would just have to wait. I was told to return to my classroom. I remember thinking it was strange for the vice principle to be there with them even though it was also nice of her to do. Though I was angry about what this girl was saying, the rude things about Jessica, I was compliant and returned to my classroom.
When I got to class I took my seat like normal and then an announcement came on that said “Teachers have been given a statement to read to all classes. Please do so now”. The room fell silent and my stomach turned knowing this probably was really bad news. I fell into shock hearing my teacher, the one who had been out in the hallway with Jessica, read “At 915 this morning Jessica Ann Batdorf passed away at Holy spirit hospital. If students need to deal with their grief or be excused please go to library” He was crying. I got up from my chair along with a few good friends and walked out of the room. I remember throwing my books across the hall and just falling on the ground crying. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t breathe, I thought I was losing my mind, how can a thirteen year old girl just die? My friends pulled me up to my feet and we walked to the library holding each other.
There were a lot of people in the library. Some that didn’t even talk to Jessica, some that were mean to her, and others that were close to her like I had been. The teachers were making their rounds consoling the kids. I wasn’t crying I just sat there staring at the ground. I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t want to. All I could think was it was some kind of twisted joke that I’d see her the next day and everything would be fine. I remember worrying about Dawn and Heather, Jessica’s mom and sister. I don’t know how long I sat there until the teachers gave us permission to start calling our parents to come get us from school. There was a line, I listened to girls that would pick on Jessica call their parents and tell them that they just wanted to let them know they loved them and told them what had happened. I got to the phone, still not crying and called my house. My dad, who was working nights at the time, was home and answered. As soon as I tried to say what had happened I started to cry so hard he couldn’t understand me and was laughing at me. I had to convince him I wasn’t joking and I needed him to come get me. I could tell instantly the change in his tone as soon as I could muster out the words that Jessica had died he said he’d send my mom to get me. I don’t recall how long I had to wait for my mom to get there; I don’t even remember the ride home. I just know that when I had got to my house my sister and a close friend of Jessica’s and I were there crying, my mom was crying as well. We just sat there in silence for a while hugging each other.
It turns out that Jessica, at the age of 13, had a heart murmur. When she collapsed her heart had stopped and couldn’t revive itself. Losing a best friend was really rough on me but I’ve learned I have to be happy for her, for the life she had lived. The last time I talked to her was the previous Saturday, she was so happy. I remember her telling me how much she valued our friendship and that she loved me. Losing her taught me not to take people or things for granted. To not be judgmental of people, that was defiantly a lesson to our whole school that year. Life’s too short to worry about the negative things, to be angry, or to be mean to anyone. The most important thing for me now is to be happy and grateful for a healthy family, and my overall life. I’ve learned to see what is truly important and what I need to fight for. I also feel after losing her I’ve became a stronger person, more level headed, and less judging. She’s a memory I will carry with me until I die. I, one day, will tell my children about her and teach them that life is to be cherished because it should be you never know when your time is up and if its tomorrow you must be happy with the choices you’ve made in your life. I know I will be.
In blistering Nebraska, it was America’s Independence Day. As usual on every Independence Day since I was five years old, George and Terry, my two best friends, and I, went on a manly picnic. I diligently carried out my household chores, packed my picnic bag and off I went to collect my friends by way of bicycle. It is going to be an awesome day, I thought to myself as I sped down my neighborhood street on my beat-up blue Schwinn.
George and I were born on the same day, March 14th, 1984. His father and my father were best friends from their days at King James High School. Their story is much like an old-fashioned novel or film about two lifelong best friends. They joined the U.S. Marines and both got married the same year. Intriguingly, they had their firstborns in the same year as well. As fate would have it, George and I became close friends. I did not have a sibling, and George became a sort of twin brother to me. We saw each other almost daily, involving ourselves in our selfsame talent: soccer. We both enjoyed defending
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