Tessa Johnstone

January 25, 2011

LA 101H
This I Believe
I Believe in Saying Goodbye

The last time I spoke with Catie Carnes, we fought. It wasn’t even about anything

substantial. It was mid-August, and both of us were excited to begin on freshman years at Penn

State and Mount St. Mary’s, respectively. We were arguing about the pros and cons of the Angel

Food smoothie and our local Smoothie King. Two days later, I left for State College, and she

left for Emmittsburg the following week. The next time I saw her was at a viewing. It was her

own.

Catie and I had been best friends since the first grade. We grew up together, riding

horses and playing lacrosse. We spent the weekends sleeping over at each other’s houses and

our mothers were on the PTA together. Yet how, on September 1st, 2010, could she be dead?

We still had memories to make. We were planning on going to the beach together when we both

had finished school for the summer. She was going to come visit me for my 18th birthday. We

meant to go skiing over Christmas. Instead of experiencing her first day of college, Catie was

laying in a bog, wooden box. Dead. She should have been going to class and kissing boys, not

staring up at me with lifeless eyes.

I never got to say goodbye to her. She was my best friend for twelve years, and the last

thing I said to her was, “I’m not gonna miss you at all, ya slut!” I could never have been more

wrong. I miss her like crazy. I miss her every single day, and that’s not an exaggeration. A

proper goodbye is something we take for granted, until the time comes when you never got to

say goodbye, and how much you love and appreciate someone. I call her phone sometimes just

to hear her voice, and let her know how much she means to me. Don’t let up the chance to tell
someone you love how important they are to you, because sometimes, you won’t be able to. I

missed my chance, and I’ve learned from it. I treat life with more respect, now that’s I’ve seen

how fleeting it can be. The little, previously inconsequential moments in life become a little

more special because I know that not all people are lucky enough to experience them. Catie had

some much more life to live. Each day I live better because of her. The simple pleasures of life:

eating, laughing, running, are more precious to me than ever because Catie won’t ever be able to

enjoy them again. Next time you leave the people you love, be sure to tell them how much they

mean to you, because at some point, you won’t be able to.