Amelly Cortes

Mr. Maslonka
English 101 section 1
23 February 2015

Memoir
It was my junior year at Easton Area High School, walking inside a crowd filled with noisy
teenagers that had just come back from summer vacation; some tan, some skinnier, and some that
gained more weight than last year. You could hear the females complimenting each others
outfits and hair, gossiping about what happened over the summer, and talking about whos dating
who, and who broke up over the summer. Teachers were pulling students to the side, asking a
teenage boy Wheres your ID, as the student, who looked like he just rolled out of bed, his
pants sagged down under his waist, and a white tee shirt that looked like its twice his size, rolling
his eyes as he searched for his ID in his half empty book bag. Almost every student had a
printed schedule in their hand, searching for their classes and comparing their schedules with
their friends to see if they have any classes together.
For me, it was a typical first day of school. As the day went by, I was content with my
teachers and the people that were in my class. Moving on to fourth period, I had gym class,
which I dreaded with a passion. Having to attend class with sweaty, competitive teens and having
to change in the locker room with other judgmental females was hard for me because I have
always been on the heavier side. It was a cluttered locker room filled with young, teenage girls

complaining about their bodies and applying makeup as they joked around, laughing and
giggling like typical silly teenage girls. The locker room always smelled like a mix of body odor
and fruity body spray.
When our time to change in the locker room was up, it was time to go inside the noisy gym,
where you could hear the sound of loud guys horsing around and bouncing a basketball. Gym
teachers could be seen watching attentively, making sure everyone was gathering where they
were supposed to. Our gym class was a large group of about twenty students per teacher. As I
stood waiting for instructions on what to do, one of the female teachers blows her whistle yelling
loudly, Listen up class! For your warm up, you are to jog three laps around the gym.
I remember a Latino guy, about five and a half feet tall, tan skin, on the heavier side, with
brown eyes, brown hair, and a smile that could light up the whole room. Standing there was a
stranger who I knew nothing about, with the exception of how funny he was when he shook his
head in disagreement and made a comment to one of the teachers about how it was abuse for a
fat person to have to run laps for a warm up. The teacher laughed at his comment and told him to
start jogging. He noticed me laughing in agreement and smiled back, although still upset that we
had to jog. He told me, This is wrong we should have an option. I started laughing and said I
completely agree. He introduced himself as Hector while we were jogging our exhausting laps as
other students passing us joked around somehow enjoying their warm up. From that moment,
Hector and I clicked and started joking around about random topics. From then on, I had a gut
feeling that he and I would become good friends.
Starting on the day I met Hector, I had something to look forward to when fourth period came
around. As the months went by, we became closer and started hanging out outside of school. I
introduced him to my childhood best friend, and she grew to love him as well. This man became

my best friend and a walking personal comedian, as he always had a joke in hand and a smile on
his face. He always had a way of making me laugh and complimenting me, and any other female,
that he thought was pretty. No matter the place or time, he was never ashamed to say how he felt.
During the next beginning of the next year, 2010, things went downhill between Hector and I
over a silly disagreement that separated us from being as close as we were previously. During
that moment in life, I was still young; holding grudges and never thinking of the consequences.
One morning, I was sitting in my kitchen on a hard, wooden chair while searching on
Facebook and eating my Special K cereal. Everything seemed to be going like that of a normal
day, until I got a text from Hector. Being young and ignorant, I took a deep breath as I rolled my
eyes and thought twice about responding. I did end up texting back with an unfriendly, hey,
not knowing the news he was about to tell me. Hector responded, telling me he had recently been
diagnosed with cancer, but hadnt told many people and he felt that I should know about it. As I
sat in my kitchen chair, holding my phone and staring at his response, I second guessed myself as
to whether he was joking or not. Hearing this news made me completely forget what I was even
upset with him about, and I began drowning in guilt and regret. I looked back at how long I was
upset with him for something so silly. Memories, good and bad, flashed before my eyes and that
very moment, I was completely speechless and numb.
I knew I eventually had to respond to this horrific text message that, in all honesty, I wished
was just a bad dream. All I could think to say was, Im sorry for not forgiving you earlier.
After that message, I tried to find some positive in the situation and started texting him words of
inspiration, telling him how he is a trooper and will get through this. I was convinced in my heart
that he would fight this and that it would all be a happy ending.

Later that week, Hector wasnt feeling well and decided to go see what was wrong. He ended
up being admitted to the hospital, so I went to go visit him. Walking into Easton Hospital, I
searched for his room until I finally found it. His room had curtains hung instead of a door and a
nurse leaving the smell of alcohol, as I assume she was preparing to inject him with more
medications. The walls in the room were white and there were loud, annoying machines that
beeps along with your heart rate. In my mind, I was expecting to see my best friend filled with
life and the smile he always had glued to his face. Instead, when I looked, everything became
silent my and whole world stopped. It felt like someone took a bat and took a strike right towards
my stomach aiming next to my heart. I could hear myself breathing as I stood in front of
someone who didnt look like Hector, but a young, bald, pale guy with the bed sheets half on
him, wearing an oxygen mask, and fighting for his life. All I could think about was this horrible
disease, sucking the life out of this young man who I couldnt accept was my best friend.
My next thought was to pray. I begged God to please help him over, and over again. As I
gathered my thoughts and emotions, I slowly started walking away from the room. As time
passed, more family members and friends walked in and out of the room, expecting to see and be
greeted by a young man filled with energy and spirit; just like I was. I looked at them, holding
back their tears, debating whether I should prepare them for what they were about to witness.
Instead, I got choked up and made eye contact with the elevator. When I left the hospital, I
walked to my car texting him to keep fighting, then I sat down and drove home.
Later that afternoon, I found myself getting on my knees, praying to god again, asking and
begging him to please help my friend who needs him. Exactly four hours went by, and on
September 26, 2010, I received a phone call from a mutual friend who was sobbing as I
answered her call.

From that moment, I knew whatever I was going to hear next would not be something good. I
was hoping that she had just finished seeing Hector and was just really hurt from seeing him that
way. Instead, painful screams came through the phone repeating, Hes gone! over and over. I
wished it was all a nightmare, hoping to wake up any moment now and see it was only a cruel
joke. I was hoping it was anything but the truth. My best friend Hector was gone and there was
no negotiation, no money; nothing in my power to bring him back. I thought of my last hug that I
shared with him and how it ended up being at the same place he took his last breath. I sat there
on the line sobbing and crying, soaking the shirt I had on with tears. On both ends of the call, all
you could hear was the both of us sharing our moment of pain together. The only phrase that was
said and repeated was, I cant believe it. This being my first loss, I hung up the phone not
understanding what to do next or how to even handle the situation.
Gathering my feelings, I prepared for the worst to come in saying our last goodbyes. I
walked into a church filled with sobbing people wearing shirts with Hectors picture on it, as his
friends and family held each other crying. A special song was played that touched the deepest
parts of my soul. The song said not to cry for our loss because our friend was in a better place,
and talked about how if we could only you could see how beautiful it is where he is now.
Hearing the lyrics to this song and seeing everyone gathered is when reality started sinking in
even more. I burst in tears, standing in line, as people worked their way towards the casket to see
Hector one last time. You could hear people mumble and talk about how funny and how much of
a great guy he was, and how only the good die young. All his family members were still in
shock, even the grown men that were there couldnt fight back the tears.
Before we left for the graveyard, the pastor gave a ceremony and tried to give everyone
comforting words. That day the sun was shining brighter than ever, like heaven was celebrating

the arrival of its new angel; an angel who would bring much joy and happiness like he did on the
earth. The grass at the cemetery was freshly cut, and smelled strong and rich. The wind was
blowing gently on everyones crying, sad faces, and bringing Hectors casket down as if this was
an event that was unimaginable. The cries of those around me became louder and more painful to
listen to as the casket was lowered into the ground. At this point, people started turning to their
loved ones and hiding their faces in their arms because, at that very moment, it was better to look
away than to close your eyes at night and remember the heart breaking image of your best friend
being laid down for the last time. My tears increased with everyone elses. Standing there aside
from all the sorrow and pain there was a hint of peace and the image of me being on my knees,
praying and asking god to please help my friend came to mind. In my heart, I knew he was being
helped like I asked. He was no longer in pain and his purpose in life was done. He taught me to
always find a way to smile and to never take someone fore granted because, no matter what their
age is, you never know how much time they have left on their clock.