Grief is such an unusual thing. I felt so at a loss after my brother died- I'm not sure if it was having to live in that grief with my family, or if it was that I was a teenager and still developing a sense of how to manage and express my feelings. It took me a very long time to accept that loss. My grandparents deaths I accepted as life running its course. But I was surprised at how difficult it was to lose them. My childhood is completely saturated with memories of them and the joy and treasured experiences that they brought to my life. I think that I was mourning my childhood as much as I was mourning them.

But Kim's death--like Sameer's in 8th grade-- it just wreaks with injustice. No one so young and so wonderful should die. My mind spun in the hours after I learned of Kim's deteriorated condition and as heartless as it is to say, all that I could think was that I wanted it to be someone else. I wanted it to be the abusive parents in my mom's courtroom, I wanted it to be the negligent nurses that forgot to rotate Kim when she sat helplessly in hospital beds. I felt sat upon, like I couldn't breathe. Like my whole lifetime could be contained in the rest of that day because that was how slow everything began to move. I fell asleep and dreamt of her. I woke up to the nightmare. I pressed my eyes closed again.

Despite all of these feelings, and the fact that I loved my friend so dearly, I think that I have rebounded from losing Kim, better than any other loss I've ever experienced. Sometimes I wonder if it is because it is what she would've wanted me to do. She did not dwell on what challenged her, she moved forward. But she was sensitive. I feel sensitive to losing my friend. I love her, and I am heartbroken that she is gone. But I want to move forward.

The night that Kim was taken off of life support, I had to go to my dance class at school. I couldn't remember the steps. I couldn't pay attention. I couldn't see. I felt a total loss. I dropped my partners hands, walked out onto a solitary bench across from some orange lockers and cried- the sound bounding off of the metal like haunting echos. Tonight I went back for the first time since that night and I felt okay again. I took the hands of my instructor, I closed my eyes, listened to the music, and danced. For 10 minutes, I spun around in his arms, moved my hands through his, let my legs follow suit as I was whisked across the floor. I felt so much joy in a quiet mind and a moving spirit. When I opened my eyes again I realized that the whole class was watching. They had all stopped. And when hansel dropped my hands and bowed to me, the whole class applauded. It made my heart stop in my chest to feel this again. The joy of being and living and knowing that if I am going to live, I must live well--for Kim, for myself, for the people who I love, for the people who like to watch magical things, like a girl letting her heart be free to dance.