The following day, Christmas, I woke up early and excitedly readied myself thinking of her. I hurriedly went to flower shop and bought a dozen of pink roses – for Dara.

They lived in an exclusive subdivision.                                                                                  

Upon reaching their house, I told the guard who I was and that I was looking for Dara.

The guard stared at me, sadness and amazement in his eyes and told me to wait as he called the owner of the house. As I looked at him while he was going inside the house, only then I notices that the house was brightly lit.

A woman went out and walked towards me, smiling sadly.

“Hi, I’m Dara’s mother. Please come inside, GD!” While we were walking towards the mansion, she explained to me why she knew me very well – Dara had always been talking about her friend, GD. I hardly understood what she was saying. I was busy thinking why Dara’s mother was crying while talking to me.

As we came near the great hall of the house, it dawned on me that there was a wake inside. Maybe, a relative passed away, I thought. But deep in my heart, I was trembling and afraid.

As we entered the hall where so many people were silently mourning while others were praying, shaking, I asked her mother. “Where is Dara?”

She held my hand and silently, led me to the coffin which was surrounded by flowers – pink roses, nothing but pink roses.

No words could explain how I felt when I gazed at the coffin and saw who was lying there. The same beautiful girl I met...

A man came beside me, I knew he was Dara’s father.

“We are so glad you came, GD. Dara talked of you all the time. She even asked that her phone be buried with her. She said in that way, you could still send her messages and you would always be with her.”

I couldn’t believe everything... My mind was in limbo.

“But how can this be? We just saw each other yesterday.”

“That can’t possibly be. She passed away three days ago. She had been suffering from a heart disease since she was a child,” said her father.

“But...” I couldn’t find the words to say.

“She told us not to bother reaching you,” her mother said, still in tears, “she said you will come, and here you are.”

Pain and bitterness overwhelmed me. I cried silently beside her, staring her lovely face, memorizing every line of my friend’s face, a face I knew I would never forget while I was still alive.

After the internment that afternoon, I went to the chapel she had told me she went everyday.

Sitting there praying and crying to God. I help my phone and typed: “You taught me how to care; you taught me how to be kind; you showed me how to like someone; you showed me how to love; but there’s one thing you didn’t teach me and it hurts more – you didn’t teach me how to let go. I LOVE YOU.”

I sent the message, and though I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her CP again, I knew in my heart she would get my message. I never expected a reply, yet as my phone beeped again, I felt a shiver down my spine. The sender’s number did not appear on the screen, and tears rolled down my cheeks as I read the message.

“Let go of the hand of the person you love, but don’t let go of God’s hand. For if you hold to His hand, He may be holding the person you love and the other hand to let you hold each other again.”

“I will never forget you, Dara and will never let go...” I vowed to her and to myself as I left the church.

:'(