Three Years Ago

Three years ago, I didn’t know that in just six short days, my entire life would change forever. Three years ago, I could be naive, I could take things for granted, I could live as if I knew there would always be a tomorrow. Three years ago — it seems so short in the span of a life, but three years ago, everything changed.
August 15th, 2014 started out like a normal day. I was home on summer vacation, and I went to the gym with my mom at 5:30am, getting back to our house around 7am. Sometimes we would stop at Dunkin’ Donuts, but my mom was running late that day, so we didn’t. Without that caffeine, I wasn’t staying awake, so I went back to sleep.
I woke up a couple hours later to a text message from the local police saying to avoid a certain area. My only plans that day involved going to a friend’s house to say goodbye to her as she left for college, and it wasn’t near that area, so I ignored the message. I showered, put on some jean shorts and a purple zip-up hoodie, tried something new with my makeup that I remember being particularly proud of, and headed out the door with my twin sister about an hour later.
As we got into the car, I got another message saying that the area had been cleared. It was a train accident. The news said a train hit a woman. I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t know any woman — I was 19. Why would I know any woman?
I went to my friend’s house and a few of us spent the morning lounging around in her living room and helping her pack up the remainder of her stuff. We didn’t do all that much, but I do remember that two of my friends were acting strange. They were both EMTs that had been asked not to respond to a call that morning. We all assumed someone from our high school we’d gone to was pregnant. We didn’t think anything of it.
I finally needed caffeine. Myself and the two EMTs went to Dunkin’ Donuts and one of them turned around (I was in the back of the car) and said “We think we know who got hit by the train.” I was confused because I hadn’t asked about it. I hadn’t even thought about it since those early morning texts. And then I became worried. A string of questions flew out of my baffled brain into my open mouth. Was it someone I knew? Was it someone we went to high school with? Were they in our grade? Were we friends with them?
They didn’t answer me. I wanted to throw up.
I screamed about twenty seconds later. Twenty seconds was how long it took to type “local train accident” into my phone and read two words: the first and last name of my best friend.
My screaming turned into tears and more screaming and more tears. I think the entire county could’ve heard me.
Everything inside me just hurt. I felt like each piece of me was slowly shattering, like each piece was breaking and crumbling into dust. I couldn’t stop reading her name, reading the article, reading the words that told me that my best friend had died by suicide at 5:34am.
Depression hurts. I thought it was going to kill me that day, too. I do not know how I have made it three years out. She is still my everything, still my best friend, still my confidante. But instead of her physical presence, I have her spirit, her soul, her angel to talk to. Sometimes, maybe, I think she talks back. There’s little signs — I know she’s there.

