December 21, 2012 started out like any normal day. I was hanging out in my brother in his room and waiting for my best friend to come over. All of a sudden, my dad walked into the room, phone in hand. He was talking to my best friend's cousin about something that sounded serious. Next thing I knew, we were headed to the house she and the cousin lived in.

Dad told me that my best friend had gone missing. I was scared out of my mind. Anything could've happened to her, and I immediately began to fear the worst. Apparently she went to her neighbor's house to go play like she had done many times before, but didn't return after 3 or 4 hours. I stayed at the search party for a while, but went back home with my mom and brother once it started to get dark. My dad stayed until the police found out what had happened to her. When I woke up the morning after, I got the news.

My best friend was dead. She was only 9 years old and had a full life ahead of her. I, being only a couple of months older than her, wasn't prepared for how hard the news would hit me. I was in tears for longer than I can even remember. Her death took such a toll on me that I was too upset to attend the funeral or even the viewing.

My friend wasn't always treated too well. She had a birth defect that made her mouth in a slightly different position, and she was generally seen as weird. I had met her the year before when she first came to the school. I'll admit, I was mean at first, but I learned quickly that I was foolish. She was never mean to me no matter what, and I eventually realized my mistake. I think some of our classmates had only done this when she died, because everyone was grieving the day we came back from winter break. One of my mom's friends gave me a teddy bear to help me cope, and I brought it with me to school. Mom even checked on me a few times during the school day. Seeing as no one brought it up, I assume that it was easy to tell I was affected badly. We used to be inseparable, but now I was all alone.

The first few months of 5th grade were particularly harsh for me. I only felt happy at school if I was reading or talking to my new friend, who I met through her in 3rd grade. i would snap at the other kids for no reason, and when my friend wasn't there, I felt that I had no reason to be at the school. Things improved when I changed schools, but the pain still was and still is there.

One detail about my best friend's death that has truly stuck with me is what she was last seen wearing. One of the things she wore was a knitted cardigan that I gave her. When she was alive, she wore it all the time. As she spent her last moments in my cardigan, a huge piece of me had died with her. She was the greatest friend anyone could ask for. We laughed together, we played together, we did everything we could do together. She was unforgettable. With her neverending compassion for all beings and the happiness she spread to all those around her, she taught me so much about life. And to know that I meant a lot to her makes me feel special.

Even now, less than 6 years later, I still find myself unable to completely let go. Her murderer (who lived with the neighbor she went to visit) has been in jail for years and still is, and I doubt he'll have a moment of freedom ever again in his life. But I am not satisfied just yet. I never will be until I know what she wants me to know and her killer is feeling every ounce of pain that he caused not only for me and her family, but to the community as a whole. On December 21, 2012, our small but closely knit city lost an angel. I feel like she watches over me in hopes that I'll live a much better life, and that I'd be happy like I know she'd want me to be. And so I want to live the rest of my life in the best way possible, all while honoring her memory and making sure her story lives on.

Fly high, sweet angel. You'll always be my hero. I will remember you forever, as sure as the sun sets in the west. I will tell the next generation of my family about what you meant to me. You may be gone, but you live on in the hearts of everyone that knew you.