It was a beautiful summer day on the 12 of July in 2005. The sun was shining down on the city of Boston, Massachusetts, with not a cloud in the sky. There was a slight breeze that was a nice change of pace from the blistering weather. Some would say that it was the perfect day, a day for spending time with family and friends. However, for myself, my friends, and others it was a sad day. A day that will forever dwell in our minds. As I stand at the door of Our Lady of Eternal Mercy Church in my school uniform I struggle to hold back the tears that were trying to overwhelm me. My mother put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me, but to no avail. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s head inside,” she said to me, to which I sniffled and nodded slightly. My seven-year-old self could not quite come to terms with what happened just a few days before, but the one thing that I knew for sure was that the last time I would see my dear friend would be laying in a coffin.

June 25th, 2005. I had just woken up from a good night’s sleep and went downstairs for some breakfast. As I reached the last step, I was greeted by my mother who said cheerfully, “Good morning,” to which I replied, “Morning Mama.” “How did you sleep, sweetie,” she asked as she headed into the kitchen with me. Sitting on one of the chairs with my bowl of cheerios, I said, “Good.” Suddenly the phone rang in the other room and my mother went to get it. As I ate my cereal, I heard some of the conversation, which was rather brief. “Hello… Yes this is her…What?!” My mother must have realized that I could hear her because she went outside shortly after.

I thought about it for a second before dismissing it, figuring it was just one of her friends from work. However, soon after she went outside she came back, tears running down her face. “Mama what’s wrong” I yelled, concerned that she was hurt. “The school called,” she began to say in between heavy breaths created by her crying, “it was about your friend Haley.” Haley Jensen was and had been my friend since kindergarten. Haley, my friend Jake, and myself were the best of friends. As a matter of fact, she was my first “kiddy crush,” as my parents called it. “What about Haley,” I asked, still oblivious to what happened. “Her… Her family was in a car accident. She… She is with God now…” my mother said as she let out another cry. Being in Catholic school for all of my young life, I knew what “being with God” meant. When I was six, I asked my mother where my grandfather was, and she gave me that exact same reply. “You… You mean… she’s… dead” I asked as tears began to roll down my face, pouring out of my small body as my mother rushed to embrace me. “Yes,” she cried, “They are holding the funeral in five days, do you want to say your good-byes?” All I could do was say, “Yes” through my cries.

She continued to hug me and pat my head for what seemed like an eternity before I removed myself from her arms and ran upstairs. She didn’t chase after me, knowing that it was best to get it all out of my system. In my room I jumped on my bed and buried my face in a pillow and screamed, screamed till my throat hurt and my voice was cracking. I was angry and sad at the same time and I didn’t quite know how to deal with it. The first things that popped into my head were questions, questions to God. “Why did she have to die, God” I screamed out loud, “It wasn’t her time, God!” Up until that point, I was taught that God did everything for a reason, that he always did the right thing. What reason was there for Haley to die? Why did it have to happen to her? These questions filled my head for a couple of days before I reached my conclusion. My conclusion was that God was either non-existent or didn’t care about any of us. Why else would he allow this kind of stuff to happen to the innocent people of the world?

As I walked into the church, I noticed that it was decorated beautifully, with flowers hanging everywhere and the altar covered with decorations and a picture of Haley. To my left, I saw my classmates who shared the same sullen expression on their faces, each dressed in their uniforms as requested by her family. To my right was Haley’s family, who were all dressed in black, next to a small cluster of people I could see her sister Hannah and her mother. My mother left me with my friends before going to pay her respects to the now mother of one. All I could do was sit there and look at the casket before me, which contained the body of a dear friend. Shortly after the ceremony began and we heard from many family members as well as Mrs. Schaffly, our second grade teacher. We were soon able to go up and say our good-byes. One by one people went up, the church drowning in the cries of everyone in attendance. Finally, I approached the casket to see her there. It was almost magical how she appeared to be asleep, not wanting to wake up from an amazing dream. Her skin was as white as freshly fallen snow and her blonde hair rested perfectly on her shoulders. To me, she looked exactly like one of the angels that I had seen in picture books. Not being able to hold back the tears anymore I let them flow from me like a waterfall before saying as best as I could, “Goodbye Haley. I hope we can meet again someday. Say hello to my grandpa for me.” I am then guided to a seat by my mother who sits beside me, allowing me to cry into her side.

After everyone had said their words, we were advised that we will continue to Our Lady’s Cemetery which just happened to be down the street from my house. While my mother drives the car was silent, with the only noise being the cries I once again try to suppress. Finally, as we were almost to the cemetery, my mother said to me, “Sweetie, do you think Jenna would want you to cry for her,” to which I replied the best that I could, “No.” “No she wouldn’t,” she continued to say, “Because she would want you to be happy. Think of it this way, she is in Heaven now, she is safe from everything.” These words comforted me and allowed my tears to cease.

In the cemetery we all stood around the casket as the Father of the church said the ceremonial words, which were drowned out by the cries of the mother and sister. Finally, before they lowered the casket into the ground, each of her fellow classmates placed a rose on the coffin, which to me was a sense of closure. When it was my turn to put a rose on I went up and laid it on before saying with a smile, “Goodbye Haley.”