When I was in 6th grade, I met and soon became friends with a girl who, for the sake of this story, I am going to call Amy. Amy suffered from a seizure disorder that was not all that well-known, and those who had this disorder do not usually survive past childhood. Amy was a very kind girl, despite her disability. She lived life to the fullest, playing as the superheroes and mermaids in her favorite TV shows or riding horses. She always embraced everybody she met with warmth and kindness. She was a very happy child, despite being terminally ill. She made a deep impact on me, and I miss her very much.
I met Amy in September of 6th grade, and we shared 3 or 4 classes together. When it came to lunchtime, Amy would invite me and a couple of our friends to sit with her in her private room and eat together, with her nurse supervising us. I remember vividly one time the school psychologist, who we also sat with at lunch on occasion (courtesy of Amy), calling me down to his office to explain the severity of Amy’s condition. I was a mature child and understood what he was telling me, but never fully comprehended it. How could anyone? Their best friend just suddenly dying. And at such a young age. We were only 11 years old. It seemed like a possibility far off in the future. Not something to worry about right now.
I was invited to Amy’s 12th birthday party. I was so excited to go. I wouldn’t stop talking about it. Amy, myself, and a couple of our friends all talked about it throughout lunch, health, and choir. The night before the party, I fell asleep, and in my dream, I was in a church. The church walls were white with a red carpet that made up the aisle. I found myself walking up the aisle to a light-brown, wooden coffin which was tilted upwards, holding none other than Amy. She was in a black dress with her hands clasped together. She looked peaceful. I woke up deeply concerned and confused, but I figured that this dream was nothing to worry about, and birthdays usually correlate with death.
The party was so much fun, there was the usual cake and pizza, and all the soda you could drink. Amy looked very happy to be there, despite having to sit out on a lot of the fun because of her condition. She was surrounded by her friends and family. I remember hugging her goodbye when it was my time to leave and she asked me if I wanted to sleep over that night, but due to another event I had to go to that evening, I politely declined. She pulled me into a hug, and when she released she looked into my eyes and said “goodbye.” Looking back on it, the way she said it, it’s almost like she knew.
My mother got a phone call the night after through one of Amy’s mother’s close friends. Amy passed away in her sleep the night after her party. The night she invited me to sleep over. The cause of death was SUDEP (Sudden Unexplained Death in Epilepsy). I was heartbroken and racked with guilt. Did I do this? Could I have prevented this? If I had slept over that night, could I have saved her?
I didn’t sleep that night, or the night after. I didn’t sleep normally again for a while. I told no one about my dream. Not any of my friends, my teachers, my parents, especially Amy’s family. I blamed myself for her death for years, and whenever a video about seizures appeared on my YouTube feed or on television, I made myself watch every single one. Amy’s face appeared whenever I closed my eyes to fall asleep, and her voice whispered in my ears. Amy’s memory has haunted me ever since, and always will.