“Don’t try this at home!” announced the slouched second grader who proceeded to thrust her arms toward the sky before cartwheeling into the misty, green pool. I had gaped at my childhood friend’s daring ways from the opposite side of the glistening water and wondered if her warning should be taken seriously. Taylor had constantly been introducing me to new experiences, including her gymnastic stunts as well as witty sayings. She and I began our journey together through the eyes of eight year olds, and although our friendship faded as we both grew apart, she continuously impacts my outlook on life.

Almost nine years after our day beneath the afternoon sun in her backyard, Taylor and I had been completely separated by time and had subsided in our individual niches in high school. Despite the fact that we would merely walk past each other in the hallways, I knew that in the back of our minds, we remembered the memories we’ve shared so many years ago. In fact, those memories were returned in full to me after an incident on a Sunday night. While the month of April was in bloom and soon-to-be college students roamed the country in search of their future school, a handful of people’s lives were halted after this night, when Taylor had been struck and killed by a car on the parkway. I was not informed of the news until the following day, when I had been visiting a college myself. Little did I know that as I was living my life and planning for my future, part of my past had just died.

To me, words are one of the most powerful inventions mankind will ever know. Words have the ability to pass on a story, to preserve memories, to persuade others into believing something, and also to provide comfort. Where would the most influential people, such as Franklin D. Roosevelt and other strong leaders, be without language and communication? An entire country can feel relief after the ten assuring words, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Use of words gives me a way to cope with tragedy, just as figures of the past have done as well.

Specifically after Taylor’s death, I expressed my emotion through a creative outlet. Memories keep flooding back from my friendship with Taylor, like an unexpected high tide at the shore of an ocean. The moments of my childhood swim within the sea, and occasionally they will wash up on the beach of present day when I come across a reminder of the past. My heart spills words onto paper in every and any form; poems and letters especially, have anchored my thoughts to a surface and can now inspire others to release emotions through their own passion, such as painting or making music. Life may include tragedy, but it is how we utilize the unfortunates granted to us that determines our strength as people. In my situation, I benefitted from a death by writing about it. Each new line scribbled down on paper is a representation of how I can transform unwanted events in life into valuable lessons learned. In fact, Taylor’s death has taught me how to deal with pain and loss. It assisted in discovering my passion for words and writing them in order to cradle a fragile situation. Without the loss of Taylor, I would not have grown so much as a friend, writer, and person.