In case it also hasn’t sunk in for you yet either, you are sick. I wouldn’t say that, but I have to because I still don’t believe it and I know it will hit me when it makes no sense. I know that the worst things happen to the best people, but this isn’t fair. Why you? There is no reason. I know we aren’t as close as we would like to be but I can tell you honestly I would do anything if it meant I was stuck in that hospital bed instead of you. After you told the four of us the news, we went and sat in the hospital lobby. Everyone started sobbing except for me. I hope that doesn’t make me a bad friend. I wanted to cry and feel the acceptance that you’re sick, and that adolescent Leukemia is 98% curable, and that it is going to be okay, but my head was swimming. All I could think was that everyone else must be taking this so much harder than me. They have all known you forever after all. I won’t lie though, I’m blocking it from my mind. I don’t want to accept cancer. I don’t. I can’t. I can’t cry about it. Then it will feel like reality.
We were those people though. The ones you see crying in the hospital lobby and it wrenches your heart that things don’t always work out for the better and that maybe your family member isn’t okay. And you’re happy that this happened to someone else and not you. Emily, I love you so so very much and I promise you everything will get better. You’re going to be able to say that you survived and I am going to say I have the strongest friend in the world. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met on the inside and out and nothing will change that.