In life, when we are close to being gone we remember all things that have happened. I can still feel the rigidness of the window pressing against my arm, the car shaking because of the rustic engine, the sun slowly moving into each eye; disappearing like leaves in the fall. As I remember all the moments that led up to this, I think why? Why did he have to? Thomas Hunt was my best friend and still is. I was 14 at the time, I didn't understand pain and death. I was confused. I blamed him. We entered the grim and bleak white hospital. The war zone. It's funny, isn't it? We all think that life is going to be this marvelous thing. We grow up. We marry. We die. We die, and yet I don't understand. My best friend is dying with a brain tumor at 17 and I have to sit there and watch. Where is God? Where are the doctors that we praise in society? It's bullshit man. I don't understand.

"He wanted to say goodbye," said Mrs. Hunt. I could see the hopelessness in her eyes. Although I was young, I've always been wise. The body language and sorrow in her voice gave it all away. Hunter was going to die and there was nothing anyone could do.

"He's waiting for you in room 7," the nurse stated.
Beige walls have always haunted me. Why not white, or blue? Beige? 
"I can't," I told her.

I didn't want to see his face and be sorry for him. I picked him up when he was down and he would do the same to me. I couldn't build up the nerve to go in and see him in this state. To really understand what we were, I need to go back to the beginning.

Tom and I met when I was in preschool, it was this grotesque building where the people were more inconsiderate than the weather. It was constantly snowing, raining, and hailing throughout the year. I would stay inside reading a book or playing with the legos. One day, one of the first graders scraped his knee. Instead of running into the room as most first graders would, he sauntered into the room as if it wasn't a big deal. There was no one in the room but me, so I took initiative and grabbed the first aid kit and got a bandage for the older boy.

“What's your name?” asked the boy.
“Amine” I responded while opening the First Aid kit.
"What's yours?" I questioned.
"Thomas Hunt, but you can call me Tom,"  he said rather confidently.   
After that day, it was a routine of ours that we would play at recess. When summer started to roll around, our parents got into contact with one another so we could hang out more frequently. By hanging out more often than just a few minutes every day during recess, we started to develop a closer bond that lasted for several years. Later on, when he was in 8th grade and I was in 6th, he became friends with people that changed him negatively. I was disappointed in Tom's decision making and questioned his decisions.  He would tell me it was just for fun and he wanted to try new things. I didn't understand why someone would experiment with drugs at such a young age, but I accepted it because he was my best friend. I didn't want to lose him.

Tom continued to do things in high school that was beyond me and his family. They didn't know what was going on with him. No one did. However, I understood him and I asked him every day why he did these things. When Tom was a sophomore, he tried quitting. I acted as a young mentor to help him become himself again. To get things off of his mind, we would take the train to downtown Chicago every weekend and take pictures or go swimming at North Avenue beach. The best memory I have of both of us is when Tom had his biggest baseball game of the year. He just got moved up to varsity in his second year on the team during his sophomore year. They were playing the best school in their area. Tom was pitching and he threw the ball so fast that the player at bat couldn't process the ball. He ended up striking him out. There was a scout there that came up to Tom after the game and asked him if he had ever imagined of playing in college.

"I haven't thought of it yet, but I wouldn't mind," said Tom.
"I will be in contact with you during your years here in high school. Great work out there again," responded the scout.
 

After the game Tom and I went out for dinner, he told me something that I won't ever forget.

"If I were to die tomorrow, the only thing that would ever matter-the only thing I would care about leaving in this sickening place called home is you. You're my best friend, my brother, and my family," exclaimed Tom. During that moment, I would die for Tom and do anything for him.

His junior year he got into a bad crowd again. They would alter him for the worst and make him unbearable to talk to. During spring break, he went to Florida with his 'friends' and he tried something that he would regret. Before he overdosed, he fell off the balcony of the 2nd-floor hotel and landed on his head and shoulders. That alone almost killed him. Everyone was laughing at first but then they realized he was extremely hurt and in need of medical attention. He didn't get up. Luckily there was an adult who saw what happened and called for an ambulance. By the time the paramedics came, it was too late. The doctors said it was unfortunate and his actions didn't help. I overheard the doctors speaking in the other room that there was a tumor the size of a quarter growing in his brain. It was too dangerous to perform surgery on it. The doctors expected four months for him to live. After that, the hardest part for me was seeing him and talking to him. I couldn't see him. I was too scared of what he would say to me. I felt like I needed his approval on everything, even on his deathbed. It was like he was the sun to my earth. Without him, I couldn't live. On his last day, I remember I finally had the courage to see him. Not knowing it was his last day, at the moment, I regretted not seeing him sooner.

"I want you to get this through your skull, Amine. I want you to understand that me dying doesn't change a thing. You are still the kid that helped me when I was younger. You're still a kind, smart, funny and amazing person. Do you remember that day we went for dinner and we talked?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," I responded.
"I want you to never overlook that when you meet another person who was like the mentor you were for me, just remember to treat him better than I did. I wish I didn't take you for granted the way I did."

Thomas Hunt died on June 19, 2015. He left behind family and friends at the age of 17. His memory will never be forgotten. The worst thing I have ever done in life was to not make the decision to see him in the hospital sooner than I did, I wish I saw him sooner. And I will regret that for the rest of my life.