I wish there was a cure for cancer. I know two souls who had died from cancer. They were so amazing, and I want them back.

The first that was lost had been my dog, Baby. She was a hero to my family. Baby was abused as a young puppy, and my mom took her in, without turning in her first owners to the police. Once she chewed up a lighter when it burnt my mom. She went after a skunk, so my mom wouldn’t get sprayed. She was our protector. After my brother was born, no one was allowed near him, except my mother.

One night, though (after Baby had puppies, we only kept one of them, Rocky), my dad happened to be someplace else. Me and my brother were asleep upstairs. My mom was on her computer in the living room when someone tried to brake in through the window that faced the hallway. Our weapons were kept in the kitchen, on the other side of the hall. Baby had growled and barked at him; her puppy, Rocky hid under moms desk as my mother called the police. About thirty minutes later, the cops showed up. Except Baby already scared off the stranger.

My brother and I came home one day to see my mom sitting in a chair, I could tell something was wrong. She told us that she had taken our dog to see a vet, only to find out Baby had cancer and there was nothing we could do. As she drove back Baby past away. She had been buried earlier at the end of our property. All I can remember after that is the tears. A few days before, my godmother noticed Baby wasn’t breathing right.

Before we moved, I used to go to her... I cried or was deeply saddened... wrote her name in the snow during the winter.

I didn’t know much about my vocal teacher until after she died. She had planed her funeral, to be sure no one was sad. My uncle had driven my aunt, Alexia and I to the high school, where the funeral had been located. Alexia sighed us in, and we stood close to the door of the auditoria. I realized we were the only people wearing black dresses. Balloons were tied to the gray fold up chairs people sat in. Someone spoke of the Lord and Jesus Christ, of how Linda, my teacher, thought of this as only a pass over to another world. A girl sang a song she wrote for Linda which I believe was called ‘Save Me’. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. Her friends told stories that made people laugh and cry at the same time. Everyone grabbed a balloon. Now I noticed the tag. It had her name, and the date of her birth and death. We all went outside, where everybody sent their balloon to heaven.

Alexia, almost all the guests and I drove to a restaurant for lunch. Then we went home. I couldn’t fall asleep that night, so I turned on my radio to a country station. Country often makes me smile, but it didn’t work that time. All I did for the next hour was cry, I cried hard. I couldn’t figure out why: whether it was because Linda passed away, or that I didn’t know why people had to die.

My grandfather had cancer once, but he had heart surgery to get rid of it. I’m extremely thankful that he had survived.

I can’t bring them back, but I know they are always there and I hope they are safe and happy.
God bless each of them.