I’ll never forget that day. It was the summer before my senior year. On my way out of the house towards what I thought would be a memorable night, one of my closest friends, who I used to play with in an orchestra, randomly calls me, frantically trying to tell me something. She sounded completely hysterical, yet too indiscernible for me to recognize any real words. Immediately I sensed something was wrong, and tried to calm her down. It wasn’t until ten minutes later did I realize that she wasn’t screaming—she was crying. And in the midst of her tears, I was finally able to discern what she had been desperately trying to tell me the whole time, something that in my entire life I would never expect to happen, something that riddled me completely speechless and secluded in my room for an entire week, “It’s Brenda. She’s dead!”
June 29, 2008 was the day she died. About a week later was the day of her funeral. I will never forget this day. The church seated a max of 200 people, yet when the memorial started, all seats were filled, forcing both friends and family to stand alongside the aisles while many others stood gathered outside of the church. As the priest walked in, only a look of astonishment defined his face, and his words essentially described the feelings of every single one of us that day: that “This young lady must have truly been an amazing and blessed individual to have touched so many peoples’ lives, as is evident today.”
I had known my friend for a very long time—four of the most blissful years of my life. Her character, personality, and aura was so unique, so overpowering, people were just naturally drawn to her. Yet this feat was so effortless on her part, it made her all the more overwhelming. Me and our circle of friends were fortunate enough to have known her for so long, yet about three-fourths of the people at the funeral confessed to knowing her from a mere couple months to only seeing her occasionally in class. Yet every single one that I spoke to mentioned how she had in some way affected their lives, whether she inspired them to be more than they can be, or encouraged to never lose hope. After four whole years, she has done more than words can describe for me and our friends, and in turn instilled in me a lifelong goal to inspire others the way she had inspired me, to place a mark on someone else’s heart the way she had done so easily for me and for hundreds of people.
Why Do I Do What I Do? To touch just one person’s life the way she has touched mine
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