I was very young when I experienced the first death in our family. At only five years old I was forced to grasp the fact that my great grandfather had died. I remember coming home from his funeral feeling lost and not really knowing what to think. It was hard to imagine him gone. No more listening to him play his piano in the den or becoming overjoyed when he pulled frosted oatmeal cookies out of the kitty cookie jar for us.
     

I remember experiencing that same feeling of loss and confusion when I was sixteen years old and found out that my friend of almost six years was gone.
     

Jordin had gone through things that no child should ever have to go through within his lifetime. He experienced a lot of loss and hardship at a young age. His mother lost her battle to breast cancer when he was only twelve years old. In order to cope with her loss, Jordin's father packed them up and they were moved out of his grandma's house, the only home he'd ever known, and headed to Texas within a week.
     

I tried to stay in contact with him after he left, but nothing was the same once he'd disappeared. I'm not sure if he felt humiliated after crying on my shoulder over the loss of his mother, or if he just wanted to mourn her loss in silence and solitude; but once his father removed him from our small town, Jordin removed himself from my life.

 It was hard to believe that he could stop caring after all the time we'd spent together within the year of our friendship. We always made the most of our time together, whether it be exploring the canyons behind our neighborhood or sitting to watch the Breakfast Club. Those memories meant the world to me, I just couldn't understand how he was able to push all of that to the side. After about a year of reaching out and being met with silence, I began to accept that he wasn't coming back to me. He didn't want to come back to me.
   

 Time passed and freshman year was starting out when I heard from Jordin's friend, Max, that he had moved back to Alamogordo. He came back to live with his grandmother after his father took his life in the basement of their house in Texas. I was devastated to hear about the loss of his father; I couldn't imagine what Jordin was going through after losing both of his parents in such a short amount of time.
     

I waited a week after Max gave me the news to go see him. The walk up to the front door was terrifying. I was afraid of what Jordin would say to me when he saw me. Would he be happy to see me? Would he turn me away and act as if he'd never known me? As soon as I approached the door I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. I'm not sure if I was happy or dismayed that his grandmother, Annie, was the one to open the door.
     

"I remember you," she stated with a smile. "You kids were hardly capable of going a week without seeing each other."
     

"I don't suppose he'd want to see me now?"
     

She stared back towards the stairs with an iffy expression and invited me inside. "I'll go get him."
     

She ascended the stairs with a speed that was hardly satisfying being that I hadn't seen him in so long. I heard a door open, and then I heard his voice. . . my heart pounded inside my chest as I awaited his arrival; but he didn't come back down with Annie. She didn't say anything, she just gave me a sad smile and shook her head.
     

"Why?" I asked. I couldn't even begin to hide my devastation.
     

"He didn't say. All I know is that he doesn't want to see you."
   

 I nodded. There was nothing I could do; so I thanked her for her time and I left.
     

Two more years passed and I was on my third year of high school. Between studying for exams that were handed out left and right and dealing with a boy who never deserved as much as a glance from me; Jordin hardly ever crossed my mind. Of course there was that aching feeling that would come over me every time I drove passed his house, but I'd learned to cope with the loss of my best friend.
   

 Thanksgiving break had begun when I was finally reunited with him.
   

 It was almost midnight and I was all alone in the house. My mom and siblings took an early trip to Albuquerque to help prepare my grandma's house for the next days events, and my dad was across town spending the night with my other grandmother who was recovering from a mild surgery.
     

I was sitting on the couch watching Master Chef Junior when there was a knock on the door. I got up, muted the TV, and slowly approached the window beside the front door. To my surprise, it was Jordin. I hastily opened the door and let him inside. He removed his hoodie and his shoes and shook off his rain-soaked hair.
     

"Hey," I muttered shakily when we were both settled in on the couch.
     

"Hi," he replied with a smile.
     

I didn't know what to say, or how to feel. All I knew was that I was happy to see him. His timing was perfect. If there was one thing I loved about Jordin it was that his mere presence was all I needed in order to feel at peace.
   

 "Master Chef Junior?" He chuckled. "What has you interested in this?"
     

"It's cute," I replied in defense. "Besides I'm hoping it'll help me with my culinary skills."
   

 He rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. "We should cook something."
     

"Are you crazy? Between the two of us we can barely make Ramen."
     

"We should make that." He pointed to the television where the kids were cooking eggs. "Sunny side up."
   

 We spent over an hour trying to cook sunny side up eggs with absolutely no luck. By the end of the night we were left with an empty carton of eggs a bunch of broken dreams.
     

"Well, we failed." Jordin said with a laugh when we both decided to get back to the living room. "I should probably get going soon."
     

"Thanks for coming," I stated wearily. "Will you come back?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
   

 "I really missed you, Jordin. It sucked not being able to see you or talk to you."
     

"I'm sorry. I just had a lot on my mind. But I wanted to see you tonight, I had to see you tonight. And I had a really great time."
     

That aching feeling came back to me when he got up and collected his things. I wanted him to come back into my life. I'd forgotten how much of an impact he made on me.
   

 He opened the front door and stepped outside, but before he left he turned to me and pulled me in for a hug.
     

"I love you," he whispered into my hair.
     

I smiled into his chest. "Me you more."
     

With that he was gone again. I watched him as he walked down the street and until he disappeared around the corner. I wasn't certain that he'd come back into my life for good, but I had hope. That's something I hadn't had in a while.
   

 The next day was Thanksgiving. My dad was home by three in the morning and we were on the road by four. Jordin was on my mind the entire trip to Albuquerque. All I could think about was the previous night when I finally, after almost four years, got to enjoy his company the way I did when we were kids. I'd almost forgotten the feeling of security and being around someone who truly understood and accepted me.
   

 It was in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner when I got the call from his grandmother.
     

I don't remember the entire conversation. I only remember her saying she was sorry over and over again. And I remember feeling absolutely devastated, like the wind had been knocked out of my body and the walls were closing in around me. He couldn't be gone. He was just with me, he'd just come back into my life.
     

But he was gone. This time not just from my world, but from everyone else's.
     

The grieving process was brutal. I grieved the loss of a boy who never deserved my attention at the same time I was grieving the loss of a boy who had held my heart longer than any person ever could. I would wake up around two in the morning every night for weeks and cling onto my bedpost while holding back sobs because the pain was almost too much to bear.
     

But I didn't want to share my pain with anyone; I wanted to face this alone. I was very selfish when it came to Jordin. I didn't even share our relationship with my closest friends because I didn't want anyone even trying to understand or love him the way I did. Our story is a rocky one, and most of it was not spent in each other's company; but the love and friendship was real.

I no longer wish to be selfish because I fear that that's what's holding me back from moving on. This fragment of our story needed to be shared. And the sorrow of his loss needs to be released.
     

So here it is, my final goodbye. Many nights were spent lying awake and aching for the company of someone who's no longer attainable; almost a year later and I finally feel like I can let go.