A Closing Chapter
As I sat there, eyes wet, I watched as my closest friend was lowered to the ground. Her vault was made of gold like her pure and young heart. Just like the weeping sky, the world around felt desolate and gray. Sitting in stoic silence, the elegant words of relatives and friends flowed, telling good and pure stories in memory of our loved ones. One by one, white homing doves were released into the skies just as her spirit was freed and set to return home to Heaven and back to perfection. One of my chapters ended when her book closed, taking almost every ounce of my childhood with it. Loss and struggle were nothing new to me but to lose a person like her was incommunicable. She embodied a true child of God that I hope and intend to become. She, like me, also had her everyday life struggles with mental health, but unfortunately, we handled it differently. Besides those issues, she dealt with the scandals that came with being wealthy and her battle with addiction. Watching her go through this alone was beyond painful, but there was nothing I or anyone else could do. She was often in rehab in Lebanon, a foreign country where it was hard to reach her and impossible to visit her. Her battles with mental health led her to drugs and alcohol to escape the pain she often endured.
Despite her wealth, she was full of humility and modesty. She never cared about her wealth and would cringe when anyone referred to her as being remotely wealthy. She always told me, "it's not my money, it's my parent's money," and I always respected her for that. She wasn't like most people who identified themselves as being well off. She often slept on the floor or took her mattress off her bed to sleep on the floor if it were too hard. She would reject the extravagant gifts of Gucci and Louis Vuitton that her parents gave her and instead asked for just enough cash to hit up a couple of thrift stores. During her time in Lebanon, she became a philanthropist. She would play and spend time with the young kids in the streets the same way she would as if they were her own siblings. She would give out her savings to the kids and their families so that they could afford food. Even after her death, her legacy of giving back to others continues with a foundation in her name, which gives to the most underprivileged families in Lebanon. Being sad that she is gone feels selfish because I knew she hurt more than anyone I have ever known. Every time I saw her, there were always self-inflicted fresh cuts on her arms and legs, which now covered most of her skin. When I saw this, it always reminded me of a story I once heard. The story started with a person struggling with depression who would cut to ease the sadness when a little child came up to them. The child said, "My Mommy told me that those scars mean you're an angel that's stuck on earth and wants to return home to Heaven," the child then proceeded to share that their mother was also a trapped angel, but she had returned to Heaven. Like the story, I believed her to be an angel stuck on earth and needed to return home.
Her severe pain and suffering were an unfair cross that she carried, and I believe that God thought it was time for his lost and wandering Angel to return home to the eternal peace and happiness that is Heaven. I could never have asked for a better friend, sister, or guardian angel than her. Her contagious joyful laughter will live with me until I one day meet her again at God's pearly gates. Her Beautiful life taught me to never take anything for granted, love like no other, give back to those in need, and never give up on myself even in my most difficult times. While I may never know what truly happened to my Best friend, I hope she will guide me in the tribulations of this bizarre journey we all call life.