Amy’s usually neatly combed shiny black hair fell from her head messily. Solemnly, she climbed out of her black Dodge pick-up truck. The full moon shone brightly, a great contrast to the graying dusk sky. With the beautiful red roses in her hand, she slowly made her way to the small cemetery’s gate. She had to force each step she took, because her mind was screaming for her to stop. But in her heart, she was certain she was doing the proper thing. With out a second thought, she pushed the gate open. It creaked to life, and soon Amy was forcing herself towards Allie’s grave. It was getting harder and harder to keep going forward. Despite the fact her legs felt like lead, she pressed forward. Why did Mr. and Mrs. Walker decide to bury her so far back? she thought as she approached the grave. A beautiful white marble cross with simply Allie’s name and life span etched on it (“Allison Walker 1993-2009”) marked her best friend’s- no, former best friend’s- final resting place.

“This is for you, Allie,” Amy said, fighting back tears, “You know I miss you and all of the silly little games we used to play.”

It was in the middle of their freshman year when the doctors diagnosed Allie with Leukemia. Everyone was shocked. Friends, family, classmates, even teachers. She spent the next nine or ten months of her life in and out of hospitals. Finally, she passed. Just two weeks before her sweet sixteen. And Amy was left behind, lost in a haze, trying to find her out with out her life-long best friend. Amy didn’t remember much about Allie’s last day. She only recalled being there as the monitor was turned off, the life support trickled out, and they pulled the covers over her head.

“Amy,” Allie had said just moments before, “Promise me you’ll remember me even after I’m long gone. I’ll always remember you.” And, tears streaming down her checks, Amy replied to her last words by simply saying, “Of course I will, silly. But don’t think you’re leaving me any time soon. You’ve got a life to live.” The monitor started to beep, and Amy knew it was time. There was no more that could be done, no life-support or oxygen mask could help.

Now it was two years later. Amy was going to head off to college the next day, and she knew this was her final chance to say goodbye and pay tribute to her. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her check, just as they had the day Allie died.

“Allie, I remember,” she said softly as she dropped the flowers onto the soft, dew-covered ground.

“I will always remember.”