R.I.P. Samantha
Jenny, Age 12, Bundang, Geong-Gi-Do, South Korea

R,I.P. Samantha.

Those were the first words I read after spending my lifetime-saved money on a flight to Langley from Toronto. My eyes were welling up with tears, full of sadness and frustration. I wanted to scream as loud as I could, enough to make my ears go deaf. My best friend had died and what did I do to help her? Nothing. I was frustrated about Sammy’s death, but I was more frustrated about myself, doing nothing for her when she was getting so much stress and dying.

Everyone’s here. Esther, Whitney, Darien, and even that girl Olivia Sam’s been talking about. She looked mean. It was just their nature, I guessed. The pastor was talking about her as a straight-A student but I knew she wasn’t. She always managed to get B’s in P.E. every year. My sight blurred and finally couldn’t see anything. I guess that’s the magic of crying. I let the tears roll onto my cheeks and started to cry seriously.

I hugged Esther hard, and buried my head on her shoulder. We were about the same height, and I would miss hugging Samantha, so small that I feel like I’m hugging my little sister. Now it won’t ever be the same, hugging anyone else. It might not have seen like it, but I loved Samantha the most out of all my friends. Sure, Esther and Whitney were fun and caring, but Samantha was really special.

The most special thing was that we fought A LOT. Sometimes we were serious, but most times just for the heck of it. It was about stupid things. Who is richer, who is smarter, who is cooler, and who is hotter. But we loved each other all the same while we were fighting. More often than not, we fell down laughing while fighting, because it was so funny how we can swear and say hurtful things to each other but not feeling hurt at all. All because we understood, that we didn’t mean a word.

“Awww, are you okay, girl?” Whitney asked through her own sea of sobs.

“No,” I answered back curtly. It might hurt her a bit, but I was so hurt right now that I didn’t really care.

“How can she die of a flu? That’s so stupid. How? Without telling us? I don’t accept it. I can’t accept it. She can’t be dead,” Esther was mumbling in my ear, probably meant to say to herself.

 Yup, she died of flu. The new swine flu, more specifically swine influenza, and more specifically H1N1. Stupid, stupid. She had cold for over three weeks or maybe even a month and she didn’t say anything, just kept eating Tylenol and trying to act like she wasn’t even sick one bit, even when she’s getting so much stress at school. Only few people die because of the swine flu. Only few people even get the flu in the first place. It was a big deal when it the swine flu first showed its face on Earth, but it stopped when not much people got it. But according to the CNN news I watched frequently suddenly said that there were over one thousand people dead with it, so it’s the emergency right now. That was just yesterday.

I started running. I didn’t know this place. I didn’t know where I was going. I just didn’t care. I just kept saying in my head my best friend was dead. Dead. Dead. Not ever seeing her again. Not ever watching her be hyper and saying random things. Not ever hearing her swearing at me. Not ever hearing her voice. I stopped to lay down on the field that I’ve come to.

I realized Esther was running after me the whole time. She came and fell beside me. Her eyes were red. I could feel my eyes burn too. That made me chuckle. Two red-eyed teenager girls lying down on a random field. Ha, ha. But then I remembered Samantha. My old Samantha. That made me cry again. I thought I was going crazy. Laughing and crying.

“I miss her…” Esther said quietly that I barely heard her.

“Yeah, me too. I hated her but I loved her. You know what I mean?” I said, surprised at how I sounded.

“I guess so. So, are we going back to her grave? I’ll just pray again for her and we can go to the hotel.”

“Yeah, of course. You are the preacher’s daughter. How can you not pray?”

“Whatever Milla. We leaving tomorrow?”

“Yup, nothing more we can do here, is there?”

And all the while we were having this conversation, we were crying. I could see that we were both trying our best to act like a friend dying of a swine flu isn’t a big deal. We knew in our hearts that we will never forgive ourselves for all the pranks we did on her and all the mean things we said to her, and never having time to apologize for it. But we have to live through our lives. We have to accept the facts, and who knows? Maybe we could meet each other in afterlife or somewhere we go when we die.

Great Buddha,

This is Comilla.
My best friend has died.
She had prayed to you before, didn’t she?
I remember at my last birthday, we prayed to you that it wouldn’t rain.
I hope you were watching over her.
Samantha was a good soul.
She swore, but she had a good heart.
Did you know that people have a way to differ the hearts people have?
If you are really emotional, then you’ve got a soft heart.
If you aren’t emotional, then you’ve got a hard heart.
My friend, Samantha had a soft heart but a hard shell.
Do you know what I mean?
She was all confident and cool on the outside.
But she could cry over a little thing.
We fought a lot, did you see?
We fought over tiny things and we were still best of friends.
You know why?
Because we never meant a word we said.
A minute after fighting and we were playing Truth or Dare, or something.
She was the best one of my all three best friends I have.
Why did you take her away from me?
I’ll believe that you did it to help me learn how to go through death.
I hope you have a good purpose, because I don’t think I can forgive you for doing that to me, and to Samantha.
She was the best person I’ve ever met in my life.
I wouldn’t have cried so much if my parents were the ones dead right now.
I know it isn’t a good way to serve the people who have brought me to Earth and raised me, but to me, right now, Samantha is more important.
I love Samantha more.
I care about Samantha more.
I hope in my afterlife I can meet her again.
I hope in the afterlife I get born as a boy because I’d love her to death and do anything for her.
I hope she’ll have a good afterlife,
Or a good life in wherever the people go when they die.
I hope you tell my message to her: You are the best.
Thank you, Buddha.

Sincerely, Comilla.

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